Second Chances
by Misbehavin
Summary: What if Rod and Mackenzie fell in love in law school but broke up and didn't speak again? What happens when fate steps in twenty one years later and gives them a second chance at love and family? Alternate ending to my story Beginnings. AU
1. Prologue

**SECOND CHANCES**

**Introductory Note**: This is an AU story whose premise is this: What if Rod and Mackenzie fell in love but then had a break-up in law school and didn't speak again for more than twenty-one years? What would they do if fate were to give them a second chance at love? In reality this is an alternate ending to my story _Beginnings_. As such, the history of their earlier relationship is detailed in chapters 1-32 of that story.

As Rod and Mackenzie didn't get together when they were younger, some aspects of their history along with some characters are of necessity different from the show. The biggest difference being they don't have three children together. But other events, friends and family that were introduced in Beginnings and/or the show will play prominent roles here and some new characters will be introduced along the way. In addition, the timeline at times may appear somewhat different than in the show.

Because this story is set with the White House and the American presidency as a backdrop, I've tried to be as accurate as I know how concerning presidential procedure and protocol. Nevertheless, this is nothing more or less than a love story.


	2. Fate, Destiny and Calloway Men

**2. Fate, Destiny and Calloway Men  
Wednesday, January 20, 2016**

Mackenzie Spencer Allen took off her reading glasses and rubbed her temples. Simultaneously she felt a cramp from sitting and stood to give her legs and brain a temporary reprieve. She took the few steps to the large vertical windows that framed the southern end of her office and arms crossed, gazed across the expansive South Lawn. She sighed heavily. It was a sunny, unusually mild January day and she would have loved to take a walk. But that would have to wait.

Her first State of the Union Address was six days away. Unfortunately her speech was still in its infancy, which was precisely the reason she would be tied to her office all afternoon. For the first nine months of her presidency—nine months to the day to be precise—she'd generally acted as her own speechwriter. Recently she'd recognized (or had been made to accept) that she couldn't continue. There simply were not enough hours in the day, particularly with the campaign shifting into high gear. She needed help.

Surprisingly she'd found that help from an unlikely source: Vince Taylor. However, over the past few months he'd proven to be wonderfully adept at converting her thoughts to paper in a straightforward yet elegant style. But just as she couldn't keep wearing two hats, it was impossible for him to continue as body man and de facto deputy communications director; and he was far more valuable to her as a speechwriter.

"Madam President?"

Mac turned around. "Are you ready for me?" she asked Vince and her Chief of Staff, James Gardner Jr.

"Yes, ma'am."

"How did the interviews go?" she queried taking the few steps back to her desk.

"Good," Jim informed her. "We talked with approximately twenty-five. All qualified. These are the four we think you should start with first. They're waiting for you. If none of them works out, we'll bring some of the others in." He handed her their résumés.

As a general rule, his boss did not personally interview prospective low-grade aides. She didn't even know the names of ninety percent of the people who worked in White House offices. But this position was unique. This individual would be the Personal Aide to the President of the United States, and would spend more time with her than anyone in the administration (and given her personal circumstances and work habits, probably more time than anyone else, period). There had to be a good fit and a genuine liking between them. In addition, her body man must be wise enough to anticipate her needs and wants, strong enough to handle the good days and the bad, the light moods and the inevitable dark ones. Most important he (or she) must be fiercely loyal, protective, and passionate about the job—including the long hours and frequent travel that came with it. As a result, the entire afternoon had been set aside for this task.

Mac took them and sat down. "Please sit down and tell me about them." As they joined her, she leaned forward and with elbows on her desk, said, "Vince, you know the job better than anyone. What do you think? Do you have a favorite?"

"The Calloway kid, ma'am," he answered without hesitation.

For a moment she froze. _Now there's a name from the past_, she thought wryly. "Jim?"

"I agree," the Chief of Staff said thoughtfully. "He's young—won't be twenty until May. But he's not your typical college sophmore. In high school he was student body president, an all-state athlete, and a national merit scholar; and he's nearly finished at Yale—with a double major."

_A Calloway from Yale, now that is a coincidence._ Out of curiosity she flipped through the papers in her hand until she found his résumé. She saw his name and knew instantly this was no coincidence. This "Calloway kid" could only be one person: Rod's son. _What would he be doing here? Interviewing for this job?_ A host of emotions washed over her and she was taken back to another time and place.

Jim heard her sharp intake of breath and observed a blank, far away expression appear on her face. "Is there a problem?"

He received no response.

"Ma'am?" he said a little more emphatically.

It had taken several months before Mac responded to the title "Ma'am" without hesitation. Now it was like a magnet, instantly drawing her attention. "Yes, Jim?"

"Is there a problem? Are you okay?"

"Fine. No problem," she assured him forcing her mind back to the present. "Did Mr. Calloway's application come through personnel?"

"No, ma'am. I received a call from the Attorney General yesterday wondering about potential job openings. When I informed him of Vince's promotion, he brought over Mr. Calloway's information and asked that we look at him."

She smiled. She and her best friend (and ex-Attorney General) would be having a little chat in the near future. "Did Carl say anything else?"

"Only that he didn't want any special consideration. I get the feeling he knows the family, though."

Mac nodded. "Did that have anything to do with your recommendation?"

"No, ma'am," Jim and Vince answered simultaneously.

Jim clarified, "He didn't need it. He's bright, personable, and seems unusually mature. He and his twin sister were raised by their father, a judge on the Eleventh Circuit Court of Appeals. In fact, now that I think about it, Judge Calloway's name, I believe, was on Teddy's short list for any Supreme Court vacancies."

This was news to Mac. Not a surprise exactly, but unexpected nonetheless.

"He's maintained a 4.0 grade point average while starting on the baseball team as a freshman. His references all spoke highly of him." Jim paused. "Actually ma'am, in many ways—like his intelligence and drive—he reminds me of you."

Mac was astounded. Obviously Jim knew nothing of her history with his father. Nevertheless, this was the last thing she'd expected to hear. She wasn't certain whether to laugh or cry.

"That's true," Vince interjected. "He's incredibly smart, not easily intimidated. I think you'll like him and that you'd get along well."

Until she could regain her equilibrium, she'd heard enough. Leaning back in her chair, she said, "Tell me about the others."

"They're all sharp and well-qualified," Jim told her. He and Vince proceeded to tell her about them. Finally he concluded, "I don't think you could go wrong with any of them, ma'am."

"But Mr. Calloway is your favorite?" She'd tried to listen as they described the others, but it had largely proven futile.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Thank you both," Mac responded.

"Thank you," her Chief of Staff replied. "Would you like to begin the interviews now?"

"Give me fifteen minutes. I'd like to look more closely at these résumés." As she knew virtually nothing about the others, she required time to get up to speed—or at least that's what she told herself.

"Yes, ma'am."

Jim and Vince stood and walked towards the door.

"Vince?"

He turned around. "Yes, ma'am?"

"I'd like to meet with Mr. Calloway last." Obviously she couldn't hire him. However, she was understandably curious about him.

"Yes, ma'am," he said before leaving the Oval Office and shutting the door.

Mac tried desperately to focus on the other three candidates, but again failed. Her mind refused to move away from him: _What would he be like? He had to be tall. Would he be dark like his dad? Or fair like his grandmother? Would his eyes be blue or uniquely gray-green? Would he, too, be playful? Sensitive? Strong?_

After a few minutes she gave up and again walked over to the windows. It seemed that she was destined to have Calloway men come into her life at unexpected times and in the most surprising ways:

It had been the first morning of her last year of law school. She'd been in a hurry. He had, too. Neither of them had seen the other as they came around the corner. She had ended up on her butt with her books sprawled everywhere. He had helped her up, ignored her sarcasm and promptly asked her to dinner. That was the beginning of a magical time in her life—in many ways the best time in her life. She'd never felt more with anyone.

And then he'd walked away.

His last words began to play in her head. Words she'd forgotten—or thought she had. Words and emotions she'd locked away deep in the recesses of her brain and her heart: _If you believe that…. Forget it. Your mind is made up. You've made your choice. And you're right. We're finished._ He'd said something else that she couldn't quite remember, but it was irrelevant. The end result was the same.

She closed her eyes and folded her arms tight against her chest as all the pain and heartache came rushing back. It had been more than twenty-one years and yet today it felt like yesterday. Twenty-one years and she still didn't understand exactly what had happened between them… or why he had walked away.

"Madam President?"

She turned around.

"Are you ready?" Vince asked.

"Yes. But give me a couple of minutes… and knock to announce yourselves."

"Yes, ma'am." He shut the door.

Again returning to her desk, Mac gave herself a lecture and a pep talk. _Stop it. You're the President of the United States, not a lovesick, twenty-five year old girl. You've got a job to do. _Taking a seat she picked up the other three résumés. She literally forced herself to review them until she heard a knock at the door. She looked at her watch, straightened her skirt and buttoned her suit coat.

The door opened. "Madam President, I'd like to introduce Julia Nielsen."

Mac walked towards the nervous looking young woman. "Julia, it's a pleasure to meet you," she said extending her hand. "Come sit down and we'll get acquainted."

Over the next hour and a half this same scene played out twice more, until finally, it was time for young Mr. Calloway.


	3. Meeting What Could Have Been

**3. Meeting What Could Have Been**

When she heard the expected knock on the door, Mac sighed as she looked at her watch. Her earlier interviews had been ordinary. They were all qualified. None of them, however, had stood out. They'd been nervous more than anything else—petrified about being in the same room with her.

She'd expected that would be the case. People seemed incapable of seeing past her title. Even long time aides had required an adjustment period before they'd begun to accept that she was, in fact, the same person she'd always been. Although to this day there remained a distance between them that hadn't been present before she became "Madam President."

As a result, she'd known going in that these interviews would be work; and she'd been proven right. She'd had to initiate all discussion, and had been forced to make a deliberate effort at eliciting the information she needed in more than monosyllables.

It was exhausting. Maybe she should leave Vince where he was at and find another speechwriter. But that wouldn't be fair to him. He'd earned his promotion; and she needed his talents in that capacity. She was tempted to cancel this last interview. It was a waste of time. She already knew everything that was important for her to know: He was Rod's son and because of that, hiring him was not an option. However, her curiosity had been piqued the moment she'd realized his identity. How could she not meet him? By the time Vince opened the door she was standing in the perfect position to study him.

"Madam President," Vince announced, "May I introduce…."

"Mr. William Cooper Calloway," she interjected with a practiced smile as she approached, still scrutinizing him. He was tall, but not as tall as his father.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied.

She almost stopped dead in her tracks. Although he had blondish hair and blue eyes, the grin he was sporting was identical to the playful, cocky look she'd known so well. She stuck out her hand. "It's an honor to meet you."

Immediately he accepted it and looking her squarely in the eyes, said, "I think that's supposed to be my line, ma'am."

Mac laughed softly. "You were named after your grandfather, and you have his eyes. As I recall, he hates the name 'William.' So do you go by 'Will,' too?"

"No, ma'am," he answered with a puzzled expression. _How did she know all that?_ "I'm Cooper. My other grandfather is also William, so it's less complicated this way."

"After Cooper Young?" she suggested.

"Yes, ma'am. He's my godfather. Since he and Aunt Kim only have girls, they typically call me 'Junior.' You went to law school together, didn't you, ma'am?" He was surprised at her actual height. In heels, she was tall enough to look him straight in the eye. And she seemed so normal—not stuffy.

"That's right," she responded, wondering if it was possible that he was unaware that she also had known his father. At the same time, Vince and Jim had obviously been correct in their assessments. He was outgoing and definitely not easily intimidated. Yet he was respectful and likely possessed impeccable manners. _Did you honestly expect anything less?_ She told herself. She looked at her current aide, "Thank you, Vince. Hold everything short of a national-security crises until further notice, please."

Vince nodded and with a subtle smile left the office. He was fairly certain that his replacement had been found, and he was greatly relieved. He was tired of working two jobs.

As the door closed, she turned to Cooper. "Let's sit down and chat."

"Umm… ma'am?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"I don't mean to be impertinent," he said sheepishly, "but would you mind if I looked around? I mean this is the Oval Office. That's as cool as it gets. It's like Mecca."

Mac laughed. _Why hadn't she thought about that with the others? Of course, he would be curious_. "You're right, it doesn't get any cooler. If I tell you a secret, you have to promise not to tell another soul."

"Sure," he said relieved.

"I have that same thought every morning when I walk through the door," she said lightly gesturing towards the outside entrance. "I still feel like a kid playing dress up and expect the real President to walk in at any moment and kick me out."

"I don't think so, Madam President," he told her with serious eyes, a knowing smile and a slight shake of the head.

_So quick to praise_, she thought, her mind yet again longing to drift to another time and place, despite her best efforts to the contrary.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Let me show you around." She was no historian, but she'd picked up a few details about the office she temporarily called her own. "Do you know when the West Wing was built?"

"Teddy Roosevelt?"

"Very good," she told him. "Before that the second floor of the Residence doubled as both living and office space for the First Family. Poor Teddy had six rambunctious kids, who once brought a pony upstairs by way of the elevator. No wonder he decided to build new office space."

Cooper laughed.

"Anyway, thanks to him we have the Oval Office. Presidents have the ability to decorate it to their liking. But there are three things that can't be changed—that have to be here. Look around and see if you can figure out what they are."

"Yes, ma'am." He walked slowly around the office studying it carefully. When he got to the area by her desk, he queried, "The flags?"

She smiled. "That's one. What else? I'll give you hint: It's something of historical significance to the presidency."

He looked around the room again until his eyes rested on a portrait above the fireplace. "George Washington?"

"Exactly. His portrait stays… and every time I glance up from my desk, I see him looking down on me."

"What a trip," he remarked. "The Father of our Country watching your every move" As the magnitude of what he was saying hit him, he scrunched up his face and said, "Ma'am, isn't that a little freaky?"

Mac chuckled. _Gosh, he's adorable. Undoubtedly a heartbreaker—just like the boys from Greenwich had been._ "Sometimes," she admitted. "Mostly it's inspiring."

"That's good," he declared. "Otherwise you might have to turn your desk the other direction."

"Wouldn't the press and Speaker Templeton love that? The first female President afraid of the painting of a dead man."

"Well, I've heard the White House is haunted… but probably not a good idea."

"Definitely not," she agreed. "Okay, two down and one to go."

"Do I get a box of presidential jelly beans or M&M's if I'm right?" he teased. "Or how about a ride on Air Force One?"

"I prefer candy corn but I'm all out," Mac threw back. "And it might earn you a ride on my plane… if I decide to give you the job." Which, she realized, now somehow seemed possible.

"Uh oh! Pressure's on," he said with an obvious lack of concern.

While he once more contemplated the room, she considered him. Out of nowhere she was reminded of a similar sentiment expressed by his father one night when they were together: _Mackenzie, never dare a Calloway to get in the game._

Cooper knew from seeing photographs from past administrations that the furniture changed along with the big rug and other paintings on the wall. He was sure many presidents had used the desk, but he didn't think every modern chief executive had used it. "It's not the desk, right?"

"Not the desk," she agreed. "Here's another hint: It's something symbolic but not on the floor."

"Something symbolic but not on the floor," he repeated aloud. _If it's not on the floor, it must be…_ He looked up and immediately saw it embossed in the ceiling.

Mac couldn't help but laugh when recognition came into his light blue eyes and that unforgettable cheesy, cocky smile again appeared on his young face.

"The Presidential Seal," he said triumphantly.

"Not bad, Mr. Calloway. If your batting average is this high in baseball you're in great shape."

"No offense, Madam President, but if it were, I'd be making millions playing for the Braves rather than standing here."

"Not the Red Sox?"

"Those losers?" he smirked, a little surprised by her choice of team. "Only my father roots for them. I was raised in Atlanta. I cheer for the home team."

"Must drive him crazy at times."

"That's half the fun. He takes his baseball very seriously."

Again she laughed. _Don't I know it. _Seeking safer emotional ground she said, "They made a mistake in the ceiling. Can you figure out what it is?"

He returned his gaze to the seal above their heads. "Does it have something to do with which way the eagle is looking?"

Mac shook her head. "That's an interesting story, too. But the mistake is more basic. Focus on the stars surrounding the eagle. What do you see?"

He studied them a moment. "They look weird," he said looking at her. "Not like our normal stars."

"That's because they're not. They're Italian eight-point stars instead of our traditional five-point ones. Someone screwed up. But to fix it they would have had to redo the entire ceiling, so Harry Truman told them to leave it… probably because he wanted to add a balcony onto the South Portico and was looking to save money."

"The Truman Balcony, huh?"

"Precisely."

"Smart move, if you ask me."

"Me, too." On many difficult nights she'd found solace and a healthy dose of perspective standing on that balcony while gazing across the South Lawn at the Jefferson Memorial and Washington Monument. She only wished that she possessed her predecessors' wisdom and foresight.

"Ma'am, who decided these things have to stay? You're the President. Who has the power to tell you what to do?"

"A lot more people than you think," she told him wryly before adding with a wicked smile, "at least they think so."

"But we know better, don't we?"

"We most certainly do," she agreed. "The truth of the matter is I don't know who made the decision about what should remain in the office. But I like it… like the continuity and the symbolism it provides to the presidency as an institution. That it's bigger than any one office holder."

Cooper nodded. "Ma'am, will you tell me the story behind which way the eagle faces in the seal?"

"Sure," she told him taking a seat on one of the couches. "Rather than strain our necks though, let's use the seal on the rug."

He sat facing her on the opposite couch. "I've heard it changes depending on whether we're at war or not?"

"That's a myth. Although at various times in our history the eagle has faced each direction. Rutherford B. Hayes first created the Presidential Seal. It was patterned after the Great Seal of the United States. Woodrow Wilson had it redesigned in 1916 so that the eagle faced to its left, towards the thirteen arrows it holds in that talon. Coincidentally the change occurred in the months before our entrance into World War I—although that wasn't the reason for the change."

"What was then?"

"I'm not entirely sure," she told him. "However, as World War II was ending in 1945, Truman had its design changed again. He added the stars surrounding the eagle—one for each state of the union; and he had the eagle's head changed back so that symbolically it is looking forward and also facing the thirteen olive branches held in its right talon. Which way do you think it should face?"

He thought about her question. "That's a tough one," he said eventually. "Obviously I would prefer us as a nation to emphasize peaceful endeavors, and I like the idea of us looking ahead. But we can't ignore the fact that often it is our might which ultimately makes peace possible." He paused and then with a little shake of the head, said, "I like it the way it is now. The eagle is after all still holding the arrows. They remain an obvious presence. But our focus and purpose should be on finding non-military, diplomatic and humanitarian solutions for problems at home and abroad. I've always been taught that we've been blessed as a nation, and that because of that abundance we have a duty and a responsibility to be a force for good and an instrument of change. That this is who we are as a people, and what we must be."

She was at first moved by his thoughtful, idealistic reply before momentary panic hit. How could she not offer him the job without regretting it? He was everything Jim and Vince said he was and more. However, she was astonished that his father had actually agreed to it. "I think so, too. How'd you get to be so wise?"

He shrugged shyly and slightly embarrassed, looked away. His eyes moved to the painting to the side of her desk. "I like the painting with all the flags."

Mac turned around. "Me, too. It's called _The Avenue in the Rain_. The street is Fifth Avenue. It was painted in the days leading up to our formal entry into World War I. What do you like about it?"

"I don't know. It's cool… patriotic. The reflection of the flags seems to stretch on forever."

"It does, doesn't it?" she agreed. "Now what other questions do you have?"

"I'm not boring you?"

"Far from it," she assured him. "Ask away." One of the key things she'd wanted to assess with each of these candidates was their genuine interest and passion for American history, politics and the presidency. With his natural curiosity and enthusiasm, he'd aced this particular test. What's more, she liked him.

"Okay… thanks." He looked around. "Wasn't the desk made from some British ship?"

"That's right," she answered. "The _HMS Resolute_, which had been trapped in Arctic ice. It was rescued by an American whaling ship, refitted by the United States, and then returned to the British. After it was decommissioned Queen Victoria had the desk carved out of its timbers and presented it to Rutherford B. Hayes. Since that time almost every president has used it here or somewhere in the Residence with a couple of modifications made over time."

"Oh?" He looked more closely at the desk.

"FDR, I believe, added the center panel to hide his wheelchair and Reagan or Kennedy—not sure which, added the pedestal to the bottom to make it taller."

"Didn't John Kennedy, Jr. like to play in the center part? Does it still open?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "Should we check it out?"

They took the few steps to the front of her desk and tried to open the center panel. However, there was no place to get a firm hold in order to pull it open.

"Can I try it from the other side?" he asked.

"Absolutely," she replied. "I'm curious now, too."

Cooper walked behind her desk, scooted her chair out of the way and climbed under it while she watched with amusement from the other side.

Sure enough the center panel still opened. When his fresh face peeked out through the now open door, she was overcome with emotions she hadn't felt before… or not in a very long time. She had no idea how to describe them, much less how to handle or deal with them.

"It's obviously a better fit for a little kid. But at least you now know it still works," he quipped before withdrawing back into the desk and shutting the panel. He stood and brushed the dust off his slacks. "Can I ask you a question?" he asked returning the chair back to where it belonged.

"Of course."

"What was it like sitting in this chair for the first time?"

"Surreal," she admitted. "Overwhelming at first. Why don't you try it out?"

"Really?"

"Really," she responded with an indulgent smile. "Go on."

"Yes, ma'am," he said excitedly as he occupied her chair. Leaning back slightly he said, "President Calloway. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

She laughed. However, the irony in his words, which he evidently was unaware, was not lost on her. It had been his father's dream to run for office—not hers. And yet here she was. She—and not he—had become the politician. _Why hadn't he ever run?_

"Yes, it does…. But not until I'm through, you hear?" she told him with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Unless they change the constitution in both directions—or you decide to pull a Grover Cleveland—I think you're safe."

"That's certainly a relief," she said casually as she took a seat across the desk from him. After a moment's pause, she asked, "Why do you want to work here?"

"Do you want the truth or the answer I'd give my friends?"

"Both."

"Well, I'd tell my friends I'm doing it to get the hot women and to do lots of wild stuff—like ride on Marine One."

Mac laughed. "And the truth?"

"It's a chance to be an eyewitness to history."

"How did you get so interested in history?"

"My Dad," he replied. "He frequently would use historical anecdotes as bedtime stories for me and my sister. And two or three times a year he would take us on trips around the country to different historical sites and stuff. But he always made it fun—so fun that it took us many years to figure out exactly what he was doing."

An involuntary smile appeared. "Is that why you're majoring in American Studies?"

"I guess," he shrugged. "I knew Dad liked the program when he was at Yale, and he wants us to get a good liberal arts education."

"What about your second major? Economics, I believe, which coincidentally was also one of my majors."

"I know." Before yesterday, he'd known a lot about her—from the press and stuff. But he'd also spent time last night trying to learn more, especially from Uncle Cooper. "You also had a double major at Brown, didn't you?"

As he spoke it dawned on her that his educational tract was almost a perfect combination of what she and Rod had studied as undergraduates, and it unsettled her. "History," she acknowledged. "Why did you also decide on Economics?"

Cooper smiled. "You can blame my grandfather for that one. He wants me to follow in his footsteps instead of Dad's. He keeps trying to bribe me into working in the family business."

_I bet_, she thought with amusement as she remembered Will's repeated efforts to recruit Rod to a similar fate. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't know yet," he admitted. "That's another reason why I feel like I need to slow school down a little and get some experience outside the classroom."

"Seems like a smart choice to me," she told him. "I graduated from Brown early and spent eighteen months studying in Jerusalem before law school. Educationally, it became the opportunity of a lifetime. And although I had no idea it would turn out this way, professionally that experience has proven to be invaluable. And I know your father spent time in the Army before law school. What does he say about you wanting to do this?"

"He doesn't know."

She was shocked. _Can it get any more complicated?_

He saw her surprise. "I decided to wait until I found a job because…. Well, because, frankly ma'am, he will freak out when he finds out I've left school early."

_If I give you the job, he'll be freaking out about more than that, I'm afraid. I can't believe that I'm actually considering it. How can I hire him? How can I not hire him?_

"But I'm an adult and this is what I want to do. I will finish school—graduate with or before my class. I had to make that promise to Uncle Cooper yesterday to get him to help me."

_So that's how Carl got involved_.

"But I only told him I wanted to work at the White House. I had no idea you'd actually be hiring a new personal aide or that I'd be here today for an interview. I didn't even have a suit with me. Had to buy one last night."

He was wearing a navy pinstripe suit with a light blue shirt and a multi-colored striped tie; and like his father, blue was definitely his color. "You decided you wanted to work here yesterday?"

"No," he told her. "I've wanted to work here for a long time. But I didn't decide to try and do it now until over the weekend. I started the new term a week ago and hated it."

"But you're a 4.0 honors student. And it's obvious you love to learn."

"I do. But I hated being in school when exciting things were happening down here—including the campaign. I can learn much more from being involved than I can from being stuck in the classroom, watching from a distance. So I withdrew from school first thing yesterday morning and drove down to Baltimore to see Uncle Cooper."

"I take it he didn't know you were coming."

"No, ma'am," he admitted. "Wanted the element of surprise."

Mac laughed. "It sounds like your parents gave you the right name. I can easily imagine big Cooper doing that same thing at your age."

"Thank you, ma'am. My Dad says the same thing."

"I bet your godfather was stunned when you mentioned working at the White House."

"He was," he acknowledged with a furrowed brow. "But I'm not sure why. He's a friend with you and Mr. Brantley. What would be weird about me working here?"

Mac had to bite the inside of her lip to prevent a sardonic laugh.

"Anyway at first he tried to talk me into someplace else. I insisted it had to be here. Eventually he gave in and made some calls. The next thing I know, here I am."

"You didn't seem nervous about meeting me? Is that because you knew I was a friend of his?"

"Well, partly, ma'am. Mostly though, Uncle C. said to be myself—that you'd respect it. And he told me a couple of funny stories about you from law school in case I started to get nervous. Nothing bad… just funny."

"What stories?'

He shook his head. "Can't tell you. He made me specifically promise not to disclose."

_It appears Carl is not the only friend with whom I'll be talking_. "What if I told you getting the job depends upon you disclosing?"

He smiled. "Then I'd say, 'Thank you for meeting with me, Madam President. Good luck with the campaign. You've got my vote.'" He paused and took a deep breath. "But you'd be making a mistake. You won't find anyone who will work harder for you, or be better at the job."

Mac laughed. "Good thing my question was purely hypothetical then."

Loyalty and trustworthiness were also important qualities, and he'd just unknowingly secured yet another 'A' grade. She couldn't deny the truth—a truth she'd known for years. Rod was a terrific father. Yet inexplicably that admission came at her like a dagger through the heart.


	4. Accepting Fate

**4. Accepting Fate**

"Jeffrey," Mac said to the Secret Service agent standing post outside her office. "This is Cooper Calloway. He's interviewing for Vince's job."

The young agent stuck out his hand. "Jeffrey Rivers. Good to meet you."

Cooper shook hands with him. "Didn't you play linebacker for Ohio State and then the Eagles?"

"I did," the agent acknowledged. "Do you play?"

"Baseball," he answered. "But I'm a huge fan and love a good pickup game."

"On the weekends if the weather is good some of us play flag football out on The Ellipse. If you're around, you should join us."

"Thanks," Cooper told him. "That would be great."

While the two of them conversed, Mac took a moment to enjoy the sunshine and crisp air. Wanting to clear her head, she'd decided to take the interview outside under the guise of continuing to play tour guide. When they finished she said, "I'm going to take Cooper around."

"Yes, ma'am. Command is already clearing the fence line." Whenever she was outside on the grounds the Secret Service shut down the first fence lines for security and privacy reasons. She loved being outside in the yard because it gave her the feeling of freedom and autonomy—or the illusion of it, anyway.

"Thank you. This is the West Colonnade," she said turning to Cooper. "It's how I get to work every morning. There is no interior route between the Residence and the West Wing. And that," she said pointing to the grass and garden area which surrounds the colonnade, "is the Rose Garden."

Cooper took a few steps down the colonnade and closely examined the garden before turning back to the President. "I know it's winter but I don't see any rose bushes." His grandmother, Elizabeth Calloway, loved to garden and he'd spent a lot of time with her in her gardens in Greenwich when he was a boy. Even now, she would sometimes drag him out there when he was spending the weekends with them during the school year.

Mac joined him and she, too, peered into the garden. "You're right," she acknowledged. "They change the flowers often from the spring through the fall. I think I've seen roses there." She paused and thought a moment. "You know, I'm not entirely sure about that…."

He shrugged. "I just always imagined that the Rose Garden would be full of roses."

"You'd certainly think so," she said. "However, in the spring the magnolia trees are incredible. See, the two big ones by the Portico?" She pointed towards the curved porch and balcony.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied.

"They were planted by Andrew Jackson to honor his wife, Rachel, who died after his election but before his inauguration." Mac had received so many questions about the White House from visiting friends, guests and her mother, that she'd finally read a few books on its history. Fortunately, she had a mind for remembering and recalling factual details. He may as well start learning the history, too, because if she gave him the job, he would inevitably end up giving countless tours.

"Wow, that was like…."

"Almost two hundred years ago," she acknowledged. "She was the love of his life and he was devastated by her loss. They've had to insert a metal pole with support cables into one of the trees to keep it viable. You'll be able to see it when we come around the other side of the yard."

She started down the path away from the Oval Office and he followed. He wanted the job desperately. He was surrounded by history here. Seemingly every tree and every piece of furniture told a story. And she was also very cool.

XXXXXXXXXX

As they walked, she pointed to a row of tall, skinny trees directly southwest of her office. "That's the pool."

"Can I see?"

"Of course," she said detouring on the stone steps, which led to the area.

"Great place for a pool party," he said looking around. "Could use a basketball hoop, though."

"I'll keep that in mind," Mac answered with an amused smile.

"And without the water—like it is now—it could make a great skateboard park."

"No chance of that," she told him casually.

"Didn't think so, ma'am," he said. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

She laughed. Walking over to one of the tables, she told him. "Come sit down a minute. There's something I want to talk to you about."

"Yes, ma'am." He took a seat across from her.

"Talk to me about baseball," she said. "Are you left-handed and a pitcher like your Dad?"

"No, ma'am," he replied with a confused brow. "I'm right-handed and play catcher."

"Cooper, what about baseball? Have you really thought this through? What this job would mean? You'd be traveling frequently and working long hours almost daily. It would have to come first. You're only nineteen. There will be plenty of time down the road for you to do something like this, I promise you. What I'm asking is are you certain you want to give up your college years—freedom, frat parties… baseball?"

"Ma'am, baseball's great. It's fun. It's not, my life. I'm good," he said with a shake of the head, "but not that good—not like my Dad was." He took a deep breath. "I know it appears that I'm here on a whim but it's not that way. I've wanted to work here for as long as I can remember."

"Okay," she told him. "As you say, you are an adult. And you definitely seem capable of knowing what you want."

"Thank you, ma'am," he said with a relieved sigh.

"I thought for sure your Dad would have made you a pitcher," Mac said with almost a whimsical expression.

"He claims I talk and boss people around too much for that," he responded with a grin. "Personally, ma'am, I think it's because having me catch gave him a built-in excuse to pitch while pretending it was for me, and not for him. He still throws a mean curve ball… though his fastball has slowed down a mile or two."

"What about basketball? Does he still play that?"

"Yes, ma'am." _How does she know about my Dad? Had she spoken with Uncle Cooper, too?_ "He and a bunch of other old guys still think they can get it done out on the court."

Mac laughed. "You have a close relationship with him, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," Cooper acknowledged. "He's the best."

_Yes, he is_. Although she remained confused and frustrated over why he'd walked away and had ended things between them, over the years those emotions couldn't alter her perceptions of the kind of man she'd known him to be. And obviously he had not changed—not for Cooper to turn out like he had. "How old were you when your Mom died?"

"Almost seven."

"Cancer?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'm sorry," she told him with compassion. "My father, Michael, died of cancer, too. Two years ago in May."

"I'm sorry, too."

"Thank you. I miss him every day. He was an Admiral in the Navy—knew the military better than anyone I know. I would love to have him around and to benefit from his wisdom. But I was lucky. I got to have him a long time while you were just a young child."

"I think it was harder on Becca than me because I have Dad. And it's been hardest of all on him… though he refuses to show it."

Of course, he wouldn't show it. He would make a point of being strong in order to protect the emotional wellbeing and security of his kids. "I'm sure you miss her, too."

"Yes, ma'am," he acknowledged. "And I wonder sometimes about what it would be like to have a mother in my life. I really don't know or remember what that's like."

"I can tell you this," she said looking him directly in the eyes. "She'd be very proud of you. What you are doing and the type of man you're becoming."

"I hope so, ma'am."

"I know so," she replied with a sincere smile. "How about I show you the rest of the yard?"

"Yes, ma'am. There's a tennis court, isn't there? And didn't they used to play tee-ball games here in the summer when George W. Bush was President? As a kid I thought it would be awesome to get to play in one of those. Are you going to do the same thing?"

"I don't know. Never thought about it. Do you think I should?"

"Yes, ma'am."

XXXXXXXXXX

"Isn't there an indoor pool, too?" Cooper asked as they reached the circular driveway and began to follow it further down the sloping South Lawn.

"There used to be," she answered. "Richard Nixon had it drained and covered. Then he built the pressroom on top of it. But the structure is still there and can be accessed through a trap door in the floor."

"How cool is that," he said excitedly. "Can I see that, too? I can't wait to tell Becca about it… well, about all of it."

"No question whom she's named after, is there?"

"No, ma'am," he answered. "You know my great grandmother?"

"I do," she acknowledged. "But I haven't seen her in more than twenty years. She's got to be in her nineties."

"Almost ninety-two," Cooper acknowledged as they reached the bottom of the driveway. "Becca and I were born on her birthday."

"Is she still in New Canaan?"

"No, ma'am. She lives in Greenwich with my grandparents. But she's very independent… and bossy." To his right he saw a basketball standard. "Looks like the basketball court needs work," he told her gesturing his head towards it.

Mac looked over at the area that held his attention. "You're right," she said studying it closely. "Honestly, I've never noticed the hoop before now. I thought it was an outdoor storage area. Does Becca go to Yale, too?"

"No, ma'am. She's at Duke. She plays soccer and wants to be a doctor like my grandmother and Aunt Kim."

"Your maternal grandmother?"

"No, ma'am. My grandmother Calloway."

Mac was stunned. "Elizabeth went to medical school? When?"

"When I was about ten, I think." He paused before asking tentatively, "Ma'am, you seem to know a lot about my family?"

This was the moment of truth: decision time. In reality, however, her heart told her she only had one choice; and that if she didn't accept it, she would regret it the rest of her life. "Let's walk into the Children's Garden."

"Yes, ma'am." She sounded serious. He hoped he hadn't offended her or had asked the wrong thing. He followed her on a stone path, which led into a secluded area surrounded by foliage next to the tennis court.

She could see the tension in his handsome, young face. "Sit down," she said with a smile pointing to some wrought iron chairs on the perimeter of a little man-made pool.

"Is this a fishpond of some kind?" Cooper asked peering inquisitively into the pool before he sat down.

"It is," she answered sitting in an adjacent chair.

"Are there ever fish in it?"

"Large goldfish in the summer."

"You don't have a dog, do you?"

"No, I don't," she assured him. She took a deep breath. Never in a million years could she have imagined having this conversation with Rod's son. "Cooper, you asked me an important question. You're right. I do know a lot about your family. You see your godfather and Carl Brantley aren't the only ones I knew in law school."

"You knew my Dad?" he asked in amazement. "I thought he was a couple of years behind."

"He was," she said quite softly. "We met on his first morning there—the first day of fall term. We were close for a period of time."

He was shocked. Finally, he spoke. "I didn't know that… honestly. I swear. Nobody ever told me."

"There's no reason you should have known. It was a long time ago."

"What happened?"

"We had an argument—a misunderstanding—which was entirely my fault. We went our separate ways and haven't spoken since."

"Ma'am, I had no idea. Does that…" He shook his head. "Never mind."

"Does that impact your chance of getting the job?"

He nodded.

"No," she told him with a slight shake of the head. "The job is yours if you want it."

"Really?" he asked still holding his breath.

"Really."

He sighed. "Thank you, ma'am. I'll work hard. Do a good job. I promise."

"I know you will," she answered without hesitation. "But I have some conditions."

"Yes, ma'am?" he asked with a worried expression.

"One," she told him, "is that you have to make it right with your Dad. He has to be okay with it—with you leaving school and working here."

"Can I call him?" he asked hopefully.

She shook her head. "No," she said firmly. "It has to be face to face."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Cooper, the reason I told you about the past was because I got the shock of my life this afternoon when I saw your résumé. Your Dad will experience a similar reaction. I want you to be mindful of his feelings and respect his wishes. Okay?"

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I'll drive down and see him tomorrow."

"Good," she said. "Another condition is that within two weeks I want a piece of paper in my hands which outlines your plan to graduate early or on-time. If we need to get you enrolled in a few classes at Georgetown or GW, fine. But if I don't have that in two weeks, you're done. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Now, the last condition is the most important," the President said with a smile. "Provided your father accepts your choice, when can you start?"

"Friday?" he suggested with his father's grin.

"Perfect," she replied. "And if he gives you too much trouble, remind him that it's much safer than a combat zone."

"Yes, ma'am."


	5. Twin Talk

**5. Twin Talk**

When Rebecca Anne Calloway arrived back at her dorm on Duke University's East Campus Wednesday night, she was greeted by a surprise: her twin brother fast asleep and blocking the entry into her room. She shook her head. He was exactly like Dad, and could sleep anywhere. She playfully kicked him.

"Hey…" he complained as he opened his eyes. Looking up and learning the identity of his assailant, he said with a smile, "Hi Sis!"

"Cooper, what are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," he said standing up and giving her a hug.

"No kidding," she said dryly. "What's going on? Why aren't you in New Haven?"

"Funny you should mention that…. Let's go inside and I'll tell you. Better yet, are you hungry? Because I'm starved."

Becca shook her head. What was it with guys and food? Or at least her Dad and brother: The two of them were always eating. "How about we order a pizza?" she said indulgently.

"Sounds good."

He followed her into the room and they both dumped their backpacks.

Becca picked up the phone. "What kind do you want?"

"The usual?" 

"I'll probably only eat one piece." She liked vegetarian and her quirky brother loved Hawaiian so they always ordered half of each.

"Doesn't matter. I'll eat your kind, too."

"There's a shock," she said rolling her eyes. "Coke or root beer?"

"Whatever you want. No home basketball game this weekend, huh?"

"Thankfully, no," she replied. "I'm already tired of camping out and it's still only January." To get into the men's basketball games, the Duke undergraduate students had to stand in line, which for big games meant days spent camping out in a tent city in front of the stadium.

While she ordered the pizza, he made himself at home on her bed. He'd decided to split the drive to Atlanta in half. After he left the White House he drove south, taking a slight detour to Durham. Becca had their Dad wrapped around her little finger. She always had, and they both knew it. Tonight he needed her assistance in figuring out the best way to approach him; and he was dying to tell her about what he'd learned about Dad and the President during law school.

After she hung up the phone, she joined him on the bed. They'd spent countless hours over the years sitting and talking like this on one bed or another. She remembered the separation anxiety each of them had experienced when they were first given their own rooms as they'd begun kindergarten. For awhile they took turns sneaking into the other 's room; and both of them had slept in Dad's big bed for weeks after Mom died. They'd been afraid to let him out of their sight—terrified that something would happen to him, too.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I'm on my way to see Dad and decided I'd stop here first."

"Driving?" she questioned. "Why not call?"

"Couldn't," he replied.

"What's going on?"

"I got a job working for the President and she said I had to tell him in person."

"The President of what?"

He laughed. "The United States, you moron."

She was shocked. "You got a job at the White House? Doing what?"

"Personal Aide to the President of the United States," he explained with a big smile. "I start Friday."

"Are you being straight?" she asked skeptically. "Or is this another of your pranks?"

"I swear," he said. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

She laughed.

"I'm going to be her new body man."

"Body man?" she said with a smirk. "Are you sure that's legal? It sounds obscene."

He returned her smirk. "Well, I know what's on your mind…. The only question is who?"

"None of your business," she informed him. "Tell me about the job."

"Basically, wherever she goes for work, I go, too. I also help keep her schedule and make sure she has everything she needs."

"What about school?" Their father was big on education, and she could imagine his reaction. It would not be a pretty sight. She almost felt sorry for her brother.

"I'll take the classes I need independent study, and she said that if necessary I could take classes at Georgetown or George Washington."

"But what about baseball? How can you walk away? You love it." She couldn't imagine ever voluntarily giving up soccer. She wouldn't stop playing until every day of her eligibility was gone.

He shrugged. "It's only a game, Bec. But this is the chance of a lifetime."

"He's going to freak, you know."

"I know," he said with a sigh. "You don't know the half of it."

"What do you mean?"

"They dated in law school."

"Cooper, what are you talking about? Who dated in law school?"

"Dad and the President. She told me."

"Dad and the President?" she repeated. "Dated in law school? You're joking."

He shook his head. "I'm not. They dated and apparently were close. But they had some argument and broke up. Haven't spoken since."

"Wow…"

Seeing the thoughtful, almost far away expression on his twin's face, he said, "What?"

She looked at him. "It makes perfect sense. Why didn't I see it before?"

He wrinkled up his face. "What are you talking about?"

"Dad," she answered, "and the President. Haven't you noticed the peculiar, almost wistful, look on his face when she's on TV? Or the way he tries to act real casual when he asks Uncle Cooper if he's talked to her, or has seen her recently? It all makes sense now."

"You think he still has a thing for her?" It was his turn to be surprised.

"I doubt it. But I think they were a lot more than just 'close.'"

"Really?" He tried to think back on the President's expressions when they talked about Dad during the interview. Did she look and act the same way? He'd have to keep a close eye on her to see if there was more to it than he'd been told.

"Yeah," she said with a nod.

"Crazy, huh?" He paused. "Bec, how would you feel if he were to meet someone and you know, become seriously involved?" He could barely picture Dad with Mom, let alone with another woman.

She contemplated his question for a moment. "I guess in general I'd be okay with it…. If she was nice, treated him well, and truly cared about him—him, and not his title or his bank account. Never thought about it really. Never had a reason to, you know?"

"Yeah," he replied with a slight shake of the head. "Don't you think it's kind of strange that he's never been serious with anyone since Mom? Not serious enough to introduce us, anyway. I mean he's a good looking guy, right?"

"Definitely."

"You know better than I do that every unmarried teacher we ever had tried to hit on him… and lots of women at church. But he never seems to notice. Not really… and Mom's been gone a long time."

"I think Mom's illness and death shook him up—totally broke his heart. I'm not sure he's over it."

"I guess," he agreed. "He's probably worried about us—about how we would react, how somebody new would affect us. But he's got to be lonely, especially with us gone. Don't you think?"

"Not that he'd ever admit it," she responded dryly.

"Do you think he's happy?"

"I think so mostly," she replied. "He loves his work. He has us, family and good friends."

"We had a lot of fun growing up, didn't we?"

"Yeah, we did," she agreed. "Still do. Have you decided who you're going to invite for spring break?" Every year their Dad took them and a group of friends someplace for spring break. He was cool about it—a little goofy and nerdy, but cool. He would set basic ground rules but then stay out of the way. Often they went to Orlando because that's where the Braves take spring training, although he would make them see the Red Sox, too.

"Haven't thought about it. Not sure with the job that I'll be able to go now. What about you?"

"Probably the usual suspects."

"How much do you remember Mom?"

"Not much. You?"

"The same," he said with a sigh. "I remember her being sick and us sitting on her bed a lot. Having her read us stories, or all of us watching a movie together."

"And her telling us she loved us," she added. "What got you thinking about her?"

"The President asked about her—about how old we were when she died. I realized I haven't a clue what it's like to have a Mom. Dad's great—the best…."

"But it's not the same," she finished. "I know."

He looked at her closely. "Must have been worse for you. You know, having nobody around for girl stuff."

Becca nodded. "Well, Grandmother's always been across the street. Fortunately Dad's not totally inept. He's pretty easy to talk to, and he doesn't nag too much. I think Sydney and Alex must have taught him a lot. And they've always been great—especially Aunt Syd. So have Aunt Kim and Nana."

They were interrupted by the arrival of their pizza. "You paying?" he teased.

"Not even," she insisted. "You're the one who's starved… and the one with a job. I'm just a poor college student."

"Sure, you are." They both knew how easy they had it. In reality, Dad was paying for the pizza—like he paid for everything else they needed. However, provided they studied, got good grades, practiced hard, and were generally responsible, he didn't mind them having some fun. He pulled out his wallet, paid for the pizza and drinks and set it between them on the bed.

Becca soon realized that she was as hungry as her brother, and almost matched him piece for piece. She'd have to work extra hard tomorrow at the off-season conditioning.

"Not hungry, huh?" he joked. "You owe me ten bucks."

"Paying for the pizza is the least you can do since I assume you're planning to invade my space tonight."

"You know you love it… and that you miss me," he replied with a grin.

"Maybe. But what I need is something sweet," she said with a sigh.

He removed the pizza box and their empty Coke cans from the bed, opened his backpack, and removed two candy bars, a Whatchamacallit for her, and a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup for himself. They both had a sweet tooth. Handing it to her, he asked, "Will this do?"

"You're the best." Like a good little Boy Scout, he was always prepared. She eagerly tore open its wrapper and savored the first bite. "I can't believe you met the President… and that you're going to be working for her."

"I know," he answered. "It happened so fast it's like some crazy dream. I only went to see Uncle Cooper yesterday, to ask him to make some calls."

"So that's how it happened," she said. "You better make it right with Dad for his sake."

"I know. Uncle C. told me I'd better give him plenty of warning if he needs to get out of town."

She laughed and then turned serious. "What's she like?"

"The President?"

"No, the Queen."

"She's cool," he admitted. "She spent a long time with me. Told me all about the Oval Office and showed me around the grounds—the swimming pool and tennis court. The basketball court needs some repair though."

Becca rolled her eyes. "I'm sure playing hoops is a big priority for her—what with all her free time and all."

"I was just saying…." He shrugged. "But the most awesome thing I saw is the trap door in the pressroom that leads down to where the indoor pool is—used to be."

"The pressroom is built on top of the indoor pool?"

"Weird, huh? I guess Nixon wasn't a fan of swimming… or the press."

"Hard to imagine that," she said sarcastically. "I would hate to be President—or a member of the President's family."

"Why?"

"Because you have no life—no privacy. You get harassed constantly by the media and followed by the paparazzi. Everything you do ends up on the front page of the newspaper or tabloids. Every piece of your clothing and every hairstyle get publicly critiqued. Heaven forbid that you should gain—or lose—five pounds. It would totally suck," she said emphatically. She looked at her brother—her best friend. "That's not going to happen to you, is it?"

He shook his head. "No. I'll be fine. Most people won't even know I'm there."

"That's good," she said with a sigh. "I'm glad Dad never hooked up with someone like her, aren't you?"

He shrugged. "I guess. Personally I don't think it would be that big of a deal. She's pretty cool."

"Are you kidding? It would be a nightmare," she insisted. "What are you going to tell Dad?"

"Honestly," he told her. "I don't know."

"I wouldn't tell him right away that you're working for her."

"Yeah," he acknowledged with a knowing shake of the head. "Maybe I'll point out all the educational benefits first and after I convince him of that, then I'll tell him the specifics."

"Good idea," she answered with a yawn. She looked at the clock. It was late. "We better get to bed. I've got class early, and you've got a five-hour drive tomorrow. Not to mention that it will probably take you the entire day to convince Dad. Are you going to call him first?"

"No… thought it might be best to just drop it on him."

Becca chuckled. "Better hope he's in a good mood," she said slapping him on the knee as she walked into the bathroom.

"Yeah," Cooper answered his voice trailing off.

Twenty minutes later when he walked out of the bathroom, she asked, "Do you want the floor tonight? Or should we do the usual?"

He looked down at the cold, hard floor. "The usual?" he pleaded.

"No problem." She scooted over towards the wall and threw him a pillow.

He pulled out the sheet from the opposite end of the bed and climbed in. "Thanks, Bec. Love you."

"Me, too. And Cooper, I think the job's real cool..."

"Thanks. Now we'll only be a few hours away from each other."

"You're right," she replied. "It will be almost like old times. Think you can get me a ride on Air Force One?"

He laughed. "I'll see what I can do. Good night, sis."

"Sweet dreams, bro… I'm glad you stopped here first."

"Me, too," he yawned before promptly falling asleep again.

Becca listened to him softly snore and again shook her head. Why couldn't she have been the one to inherit that trait from Dad?

8


	6. Breaking It to the Old Man

**6. Breaking it to the Old Man  
Thursday, January 21, 2016**

In preparation for his upcoming oral arguments, Eleventh Circuit Court of Appeals Judge Roderic Gabriel Calloway sat reading briefs in his chambers in the Elbert P. Tuttle federal courthouse. More than eighty percent of his job consisted of reading, writing and research. Oral argument was the only time he spent in the courtroom, the only time he interfaced with attorneys and litigants, and the only time he wore the traditional judicial robe.

"_Judge Calloway?"_

"Yes, Susan."

"_Cooper's here."_

"Who?"

"_You know… Cooper. Your son," _she replied with a touch of sarcasm_. "He's here… to see you."_

She received no answer but very quickly his door opened.

"Hi, Dad," Cooper said cheerfully upon seeing his father. "Got a minute?"

"Son, what's wrong?" Rod asked with a worried brow.

"Nothing," Cooper insisted. "Just wanted to talk with you," he added while walking into his Dad's office.

"In person?" Rod questioned while joining him and closing the door behind them.

Cooper nodded.

"And wearing a suit?" he inquired as he looked him over. "A suit I don't recognize, by the way." Cooper hated dressing up. It had always been like pulling teeth to get him into a suit each week for church, or other formal occasions. _Something has to be wrong_, he thought.

"Well… yeah," he said glancing down at his new suit.

Rod looked at him skeptically.

"Honest, Dad. Nothing's wrong. I needed to talk to you that's all."

Rod studied his son closely. "Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this?"

"Dad…" he protested.

"Cooper…" Rod answered back. "You show up unannounced at my office when you should be at school. And you're all dressed up." He sat down behind his desk. Leaning back in his chair he said, "So what gives? You're not in trouble, are you? Looking for mercy? Seeking amnesty?"

"Dad…" he protested again. "Have I ever been in real trouble? Or given you reason to worry?"

"No," Rod acknowledged with a smile, "you haven't. Giving me grey hairs is more your sister's M.O. But you haven't answered my question. What is so important that you had to come home in the middle of the week instead of calling?"

Cooper sat down across the desk from his father. "My education is important, right?"

"Of course."

"And I've always been serious about it—never received less than an A, passed a bunch of Advanced Placement tests in high school, started college almost as a junior. Right?"

"Right..." Rod was waiting for the other shoe to drop; and with the way Cooper was politicking it was likely to be worse than he previously thought.

"Sometimes the best education comes outside of the classroom. I mean, isn't that why you took us on all those trips around the country and to Europe and stuff? So that we could learn about history, art and different cultures and peoples firsthand?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I think a similar educational experience would be good for me right now—kind of an internship thing. I'd learn a lot and it would help me figure out what I want to do with my life."

_That's it_? _We could have discussed this over the phone._ "I think an internship sounds like a smart idea. Would be a great way for you to spend the summer."

"Actually," he said tentatively, "I was thinking sooner than that… you know, taking the semester off and doing something else instead."

"No," Rod replied firmly with a shake of his head. "Not an option. You're not interrupting your education—it's too important. An internship is a great idea. Something I'll gladly support you in—wherever you want to do it—even someplace foreign if you want. But only during the summer break. School comes first."

"Look Dad, I know school's important to you," Cooper acknowledged. "It's important to me, too. But I've worked hard and I'm at least a year ahead of my class. I can take some time off without falling behind."

Rod sighed. He knew he had no firm basis for argument on that point. But he hated the idea of him dropping out of school—even for a semester. "What about baseball? You love it. The team needs you. Coach is counting on you."

"I know," Cooper acknowledged. "And I'll miss it. But I have to think about me—about my future, right? That has to be my first priority."

Rod nodded.

"This is the opportunity of a lifetime—a chance to see history unfold and to receive a civics and government lesson every day. But I have to do it now. I can't wait until summer. It won't be there if I don't do it now."

"Wait a minute," Rod said. "Are you telling me you've already got an internship lined up?"

"Yes, sir."

"Where?"

"Washington."

"Doing what? Working in Congress or some government agency as a gopher? Son, those opportunities will always be available. There is no rush whatsoever."

"No, sir," Cooper said somewhat sheepishly. "Actually I'd be working for the President."

Rod was stunned and confused. Cooper couldn't have said what he thought he'd heard. When finally he could speak, he sought clarification. "You mean working in one of the White House offices?"

"Not exactly," Cooper replied. "I've kind of been offered a job as Personal Aide to President Allen."

Rod felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. "A job working with Mac?" he breathlessly sputtered out. _How can that be?_

"Yes, sir."

"You've… you've met her?" he asked leaning forward on his desk.

"Yes, sir," he acknowledged. _Uh oh, this is bad_, he thought. The President hadn't exaggerated his reaction at all.

"When? How?"

"Had an interview with her yesterday and she offered me the job—if you're okay with it. She said I had to come talk to you and that you had to agree."

Rod stood and walked over to the big window and stared outside without seeing anything in front of him. _He met Mackenzie? And she wants him for her body man? Why on earth would she hire him? What could she be thinking? Why would she want anything to do with his son, when all those years ago she'd stopped wanting anything to do with him?_

Seeing his father's reaction, Cooper admitted, "She said you'd be shocked."

Rod turned around and walked back to the desk. "She did, huh?" he said with a sardonic smile. "I guess that's one way to put it." He sat back down and thought for a moment. "I don't know. I really don't like the idea of you quitting school." But it struck him that his son was no longer a boy. He'd been able to pretend before. However, looking at him now, it was apparent those days were over… and he hated it.

"Don't worry. She said I had to write out a plan to graduate early or on time, and give it to her before two weeks. She knows how important school is to you—she feels the same. She also said I could take classes at Georgetown or GW."

"I see." The two of them had him boxed in. They'd anticipated him well.

"But Dad this would be the coolest thing ever. I'd be working for the President of the United States. I'd get to travel across the country and all over the world. See how the presidency and a presidential campaign operate up close. Witness how domestic policy and foreign affairs are conducted. I could never learn this in the classroom."

Rod felt completely off balance from the bombshell that had been dropped. Yet how could he deprive his son of an opportunity he, too, would have loved at the same age? "Did you like her?"

"Yes, sir. She's cool. Very smart and seems like a lot of fun to be around. She spent a long time with me. Showed me all around the White House and grounds and taught me about its history. It was awesome."

Rod sighed. His excitement and enthusiasm was obvious.

"She said to remind you that working for her is safer than a combat zone."

In spite of everything he was feeling, Rod threw back his head and laughed. He could picture in his head the whimsical expression on her face and hear her dry, ironic tone as she'd said the words. Obviously she wanted him to say 'yes.' This was no token job offer.

"What's so funny?" Cooper asked.

"I left Yale early to join the Army. You already know that I spent time in the Middle East during the 1991 Gulf War." Rod smiled and shook his head. "Mackenzie—the President—knows that, too. By telling you what she did, she was reminding me that it would be hypocritical to insist that you stay in school when I went against my parents' wishes and left early myself."

"Yes, sir… it would," Cooper grinned back.

Rod got serious. "There is a difference you know, and that is I already had my diploma. You don't. I'm not terribly comfortable about you leaving school without it."

"I know," he acknowledged. "I will graduate though. I promise."

Rod nodded. "See that you do."

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"How come you've never told us that you knew her? That the two of you dated?"

"She told you, huh?" he asked rhetorically. Again he leaned back in his chair. "Well, I guess she had to, didn't she?"

"Why was it a secret?"

Rod shrugged. "It wasn't—isn't. It was a long time ago. No reason for you to know. What did she tell you?"

"That you were close but had a misunderstanding—that was her fault."

"She said that?" Rod asked raising his eyebrows. He was shocked. _What's going on with her? _He wondered. She was proud, stubborn and had always loved being right. It was more than that… she needed to be right—had to be right. And she hated apologizing for anything regardless of how big or small.

Seeing first the surprise and then the distant look in his father's eyes, Cooper asked, "Dad, what really happened?"

"What?" Rod asked forcing his mind back to the present.

"What happened between you?" Cooper repeated.

"We dated. We argued. We broke up. Obviously it wasn't meant to be. And then I met your mother."

"Did you love her?"

"Your mother? Of course, I loved her," Rod said emphatically. "Still do…" he added wistfully.

"I know you love Mom. I meant the President."

Rod sighed again. He didn't seem to be able to stop himself.

"I'm not a kid, Dad. I can handle the truth," Cooper insisted. "Did you love her?"

Rod studied him further while contemplating his options. "Yes," he finally admitted.

"You know I didn't know that when I talked with Uncle C… and he didn't say anything about it."

"So that's how this whole thing came about, huh?" he asked with a shake of the head.

"Yeah…. You're not angry are you?"

"No," Rod said with a smile. "But let's not tell him that—not right away. Let him sweat a little."

"Yes, sir," Cooper said wearing an identical grin. He sighed. "Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"I can tell her 'no,' that I've changed my mind. If you want."

"But you want to work for her?"

"Yes, sir. I really do."

"Then that's what you need to do," Rod told him definitively. "Cooper, despite what happened between us, she's someone I would be proud to have you associate. This is a tremendous opportunity for you. Follow your heart. And if this is what it tells you to do, then that's what I want you to do. But I don't want you to forget about school. I want that degree in your hand before those four years are up."

"I will—promise."

Rod nodded.

"Thanks, Dad. You're the best."

"You do realize you'll have to wear a suit everyday."

"Yeah… sucks. Feels like a straight jacket," Cooper said squirming.

Rod laughed. "When do you start?"

"Tomorrow… if possible."

Rod raised another eyebrow.

"The State of the Union is Tuesday night and her current aide is helping with the speech. So they need me to start immediately."

"Okay," Rod acquiesced. "I guess you and I have some stuff to get done. You're going to need work clothes so we'd better go shopping this afternoon."

"Really?" he asked somewhat surprised at how quickly his father had come around. "You're sure?"

Rod nodded. "But I'm trusting you to be a man of your word."

"Yes, sir." Cooper never wanted to disappoint his father—that would be far worse than coping with his anger.

"Go home and I'll meet you there in a little while. You better call the President and tell her 'Yes.' I assume she told you to call."

Cooper nodded.

"Then get yourself an airline ticket into Reagan-National for first thing in the morning. I don't want you driving."

"Okay."

"After that high tail it over to see your grandmother. She's always complaining that you don't call her enough. You'll probably want to see if they're free to join us for dinner. I won't be long here."

"Yes, sir." Cooper stood and walked towards the door.

"Cooper…"

He turned around.

"What I told you—what she told you—about the two of us. Keep to yourself. I don't want your sister upset… and I certainly don't want to be forced into a similar discussion with her."

_Oops… looks like he and Becca would have to engage in some more twin talk_. He couldn't tell his Dad that it was too late, and he couldn't lie to him either. Instead he made a quick exit.

His father, meanwhile, stared blankly at the door, his happy, peaceful and ordered existence once again turned completely upside down by Mackenzie Spencer Allen. However, this time he knew better than to put himself directly in her path.


	7. Hello and Goodbye

**7. Hello and Goodbye**

**Friday, January 22, 2016**

At 5 a.m. Rod pulled up to the terminal at Hartsfield. He popped the trunk, stepped out of the car and helped Cooper gather his bags.

"Are you ready?" Rod asked him.

"Yes, sir," he replied putting his backpack over his shoulder. "It's weird though. Feels like a dream."

"It will be real soon enough," Rod said with a smile. "Probably long before I adjust to you having a grown up job."

"Not too grown up—I hope."

"Me, too. Do you have everything you need?"

"I think so."

"I'll put some money into your account. And I'll see you in Greenwich tonight."

"Thanks, Dad. I love you."

"I love you, too," Rod hugged him and watched him disappear into the airport. With a sigh, he climbed back into the car and drove to work. He had a lot to do before leaving for Connecticut.

Once settled in his chambers, however, he found that focusing on work was an impossible task. His mind kept returning to the unthinkable, unbelievable reality that Cooper would be working for Mackenzie. He'd managed to avoid thinking about it last night thanks to a harmless, over-the-counter sleep aid. Now his thoughts overrode his desire, forcing him to think about her and the past.

He walked over to the window. He shouldn't have admitted that he'd loved her. But he'd always been honest with his children. What would be the point in denying it? At least it had been Cooper, and not Rebecca. His son would take it more in stride. He hoped. He never wanted the twins to doubt his love for their mother or his commitment to her. Their happiness, stability and security had always been his first priority, but especially the past thirteen years.

Had it been thirteen years since she'd died? It seemed like yesterday and a hundred years ago. He couldn't help but feel that somehow he'd betrayed her with the admission that he'd loved another woman. It was ridiculous, of course. Besides wouldn't it be the same as suggesting he'd betrayed Mackenzie with his relationship with her?

The two relationships were completely separate—one had nothing to do with the other. Except… they were the two women he'd loved in his life. The only two women he'd loved. He wasn't a hermit. He dated. He simply hadn't fallen in love again. So he was left with them: Lauren and Mackenzie.

He'd fallen in love with Mackenzie instantly. Their connection had been immediate, and their relationship passionate and serious from day one. She was his first true love. She'd been such a surprise….

_August 29, 1994_

_It had been his first morning of formal classes at the law school and he'd been running a little late. Hurriedly he had rounded a corner on his way to class and they'd had a full-on collision, which ended with her sprawled at his feet in full temper. Even on the ground, he'd never seen a woman like her—tall, striking, fiery… masterful. Her embarrassment had been evident. She'd meant to intimidate him but instead had entranced him. That morning they only got so far as a handshake and the exchange of first names: Mac and Rod. But he'd dared her to meet him for dinner, and she hadn't disappointed._ _ Quickly they'd become inseparable. The more he'd learned about her the more his love had grown._

Of course, in the end, that love hadn't proven enough for her. He sighed and returned to his desk. Looking back with the perspective of time and years, perhaps the lessons he'd learned from her—with her—had prepared him for Lauren.

They were very different women yet there were also undeniable similarities. They were brilliant, beautiful and independent. Lauren, however, was older. There was a calmness and serenity to her that he'd desperately needed in his life. Like Mackenzie, he'd found her intriguing and attractive from the start.

_April 11, 1995_

_Rod looked at his watch as he got off the elevator. He was late and hoped his father was also running behind. Otherwise he'd get an earful about the importance of promptness in the business world. They were to have lunch and talk about summer plans. Before he'd begun law school, he'd promised to work the first summer at the bank. He'd keep that promise but he had no intention of making banking his life's work. The law was his professional love and his future._

"_You must be Rod," he heard an alluring voice with a touch of a Southern drawl say. _

_He looked and discovered that its owner was an engaging blonde with light brown eyes. Except for the eye color, he could have been looking at his mother twenty years earlier._

"_That's right," he stuck out his hand. "You must be Dad's new personal assistant."_

"_Lauren Murphy," she said warmly as she accepted his hand. _

"_It's a pleasure to meet you. Is Dad?" He gestured towards the office door._

"_Stuck in a meeting in the Conference Room," she informed him. "He shouldn't be long. Can I get you a drink?"_

"_Thanks. Water would be great."_

"_Be right back."_

_While she was gone, he surveyed her desk, looking for hints about her status and personality. Immediately his eyes fell upon some serious baseball memorabilia—including a Hank Aaron autographed baseball. He also noticed what appeared to be family photos. Fortunately none of them seemed to include a boyfriend or husband; and he'd already discovered that she wasn't wearing a wedding or engagement ring. _

"_Here you go," she said handing him the bottled water._

"_Thanks," he said opening the cap and taking a drink. Gesturing to the miniature Atlanta batting helmet on her desk, he teased, "I thought my Dad had more sense than to hire a Braves fan."_

"_Don't tell me… Yankees fan?" she asked in disgust._

_He laughed. "Red Sox," he answered leaning against her desk._

"_Those losers," she playfully threw back at him. "At least my team has won a World Series during the past forty years. And we're going to win it this year, too… now that the stupid strike is over."_

"_Shouldn't count. The Braves weren't even playing in Atlanta the last time they won," he pointed out._

"_True." She pretended to think. "But let's see, when was the last time your team won the Fall Classic? Oh, that's right, before the days of prohibition."_

"_Nothing more desperately optimistic than a Sox fan," he agreed. "Except perhaps a Cubs fan."_

_She laughed._

_It was a beautiful laugh. He'd noticed her computer screen displayed the Braves' 1995 schedule. He looked closer at it. "I see the Braves are playing the Mets at Shea in a couple of weeks when the regular season opens. Want to go?"_

_She eyed him skeptically. "You're not a Mets fan, too, are you?"_

"_I feel obligated to support one of the local teams periodically. Who's left besides the Mets?" he teased. "So what do you say? Want to catch a game or two? I'll even throw in a couple of hot dogs."_

"_How can a girl resist a good hot dog?" she joked. "Okay, Mr. Calloway. I'll go with you… on two conditions."_

"_Oh?"_

"_Seats behind home plate."_

"_Done," he readily agreed. That was his favorite spot to watch a game, too. "And?"_

"_You wear a Braves jersey."_

_He laughed. "You supply it, Ms. Murphy, and I'll wear it."_

"_Maddux or Smoltz?" she asked, knowing he was a former pitcher._

_He shook his head. "Glavine," he replied. "He's a lefty… just like me."_

His father came into the office and invited Lauren to join them for lunch. He quickly learned that she knew as much about business and baseball as he did. Of course, she'd worked on Wall Street, graduated from the Wharton business school at the University of Pennsylvania, and her father was the General Manager of the Braves.

Although his father denied it, he'd always suspected that their meeting had been purposefully staged. They'd gone to all three games opening weekend, and over the next six weeks they saw and spoke with each other regularly. When the semester ended, they spent hours together every day—before, during and after work.

Lauren later admitted to him that she'd seen photos of him around the office and had been interested. She'd figured it was a hopeless attraction given their differences in age, so his invitation had come as a pleasant surprise. Although it took him longer to recognize their potential together, in the end the age difference worked well for both of them. She'd been the patient one—likely because of Mackenzie. But when it happened for him, it happened quickly. She'd proven impossible not to love.

She'd also been right. The Braves won the Series that year. A couple of months after their marriage—about the time they discovered she was pregnant—they flew down to attend game six in Atlanta with her family. It turned out to be the decisive game. Pitched by none other than Tom Glavine—the lefty—who threw a one-hitter to beat the Indians 1-0. His eyes drifted to his bookshelf where amongst other items of paraphernalia stood her Hank Aaron ball, and a framed photo of them at the game—young and happy.

Mentally, he shook himself. _Give it up. Why torture yourself? It's over._ In general, he hated to think about the past. He talked about her with the twins and with her parents, but otherwise he didn't often relive those memories. He much preferred to concentrate on the here and now—to look ahead and not back. He looked at the clock and then at the stack of briefs on his desk. He picked up the one he'd been studying yesterday when Cooper had interrupted him and forced himself to work.

XXXXXXXXXX

**Saturday, January 23, 2016**

Rod sighed as he and his father moved the last of Cooper's belongings into the garage for temporary storage. Cooper had called him around noon yesterday and explained that the President had asked that he join them at Camp David for speech prep over the weekend. Not wanting to disappoint his mother and grandmother, he had flown to Connecticut this morning alone; and with his father's help, had moved his son out of his New Haven apartment.

"Thanks for helping me today, Dad," Rod said as he put down the last box.

"My pleasure," Will replied as he looked closely at him. "Are you okay?" His son had been unusually quiet all day. Of course, the reason for it was obvious. But he hoped Rod would open up and talk to him. He and Elizabeth worried about their oldest son, particularly now that the twins were mostly grown and away from home. He was a man who needed to be needed, a man who deserved more than a life alone.

"I'm fine," he replied. "It's been a hectic, surprising couple of days."

"Like when you dropped your bombshell on us, huh?"

Rod smirked and nodded. "Exactly like that, I guess…. Only I wasn't going to work for an old girlfriend of yours."

"No, you were just voluntarily throwing yourself into harm's way."

"Touché," Rod acknowledged.

"I'm sure your mother has dinner about ready. Why don't you head inside? I'll grab your bags."

"You sure?"

Will nodded and put a hand on his shoulder. "It's good to have you home, son."

"It's good to be home," he replied even though he knew what lay ahead. His father had let him off easy. He wouldn't be that lucky with his mother and grandmother. He took a deep breath and walked into the house.

"Anybody home?" he called out as he walked towards the kitchen.

"In here," his mother, Elizabeth Calloway, yelled back from the dining room.

He changed directions and found both his mother and his grandmother setting the table. "How are the two women in my life?" he asked in a deliberately light tone.

His grandmother, Rebecca Calloway, approached him first. "Except for your daughter and sisters, we're the only women in your life. I think it's time you broadened your horizons."

He kissed her warmly on the cheek. "The five of you are all I can handle."

He turned and embraced his mother.

"How was your day?" she asked him. "Did you get everything packed up?"

"Yes, ma'am. Once again Dad and Papa to the rescue, while my son enjoys a life of leisure."

"He's a good boy—on his way to being a remarkable man. You should be proud," Elizabeth told him. She was proud of the twins, and prouder still of her son and the job he'd done in raising them. She was also worried. His mind was weighed down. There was an obvious sadness lurking in his eyes. Philosophers often muse that the eyes are the windows to the soul. It was certainly true for her son.

"And I'm going to miss him," Rebecca added walking back into the kitchen. She continued to miss her oldest grandson and hated that his life was in Atlanta. But having her great grandson close the past couple of years almost made up for it. They were so much alike; and they reminded her of Gabriel, her beloved husband who had died when Rod was eight.

"What's the occasion?" Rod asked gesturing to the formal dining room table.

"You mean besides the prodigal son's return?" his mother rhetorically responded.

"Uh huh."

"Sydney and John, Alex and Matt are joining us."

"And my favorite nieces and nephews?" Sydney had two boys and two girls—including a set of twins. Alex, on the other hand, had one adorable, precocious auburn-haired six year-old daughter, who if he was honest, reminded him of what Mackenzie must have been like as a child.

"Not tonight. Only the adults."

"That explains Christopher's absence then." The two brothers loved to tease each other about their different lifestyles: Rod with all of his personal responsibilities; and Christopher, who at thirty-five, hadn't yet managed to acquire any—even so much as a pet.

Elizabeth ignored the taunt. "Actually he's in Switzerland working some deal or other." Christopher and Alex had followed in their father's footsteps, and the three of them together ran Calloway International.

"I know. Dad told me," Rod acknowledged. "I would have loved to see the kids though." Tonight was one occasion he wished to have the women in his life distracted.

"You'll see them at dinner tomorrow," Elizabeth assured him. "Why don't you go upstairs, clean up and relax for a few minutes. The others will be here shortly and dinner is almost ready."

"You're sure I can't help?"

"Positive," she assured him. "You've had a crazy couple of days."

"Okay. Thanks." He kissed her on the cheek and headed upstairs.

Elizabeth watched him go. She could imagine the range of emotions he must have experienced yesterday when Cooper surprised him. He seemed to have handled it well, however, and had done the only thing he could do, which was to support his son. She understood a little of what he was feeling. She and Will had felt much the same with his decision to interrupt his education and join the Army.

XXXXXXXXXX

When Rod came back downstairs after a relaxing shower, the others had arrived. As always, he was thrilled to see his sisters and he genuinely enjoyed the company of his brothers-in-law. However, he was not looking forward to the inevitable interrogation he would receive from the women of the family. The twins and his grandmother had been fond of Mackenzie, and periodically over the past several years they'd reminded him of that fact. Tonight playing the dense and clueless male wouldn't work. He'd have to devise another strategy to keep them off his back.

"Hey," he said cheerfully as he walked into the living room.

Everyone stopped their conversation and turned to greet him.

Sydney came over first and gave him a big hug. "Welcome home," she said warmly.

Ignoring the questions in her eyes, he kissed her cheek. "You look good, sis." Then taking control of the situation, he gestured towards her approaching husband, John McKinlay, and asked, "He treating you okay?"

"Good to see you, Your Honor," John said lightly as he stuck out his hand.

"You, too, Your Honor," Rod told him as he shook his hand. Two weeks ago John had been sworn in as a state court judge. "Congratulations. How do you like wearing the robe?"

"Intimidating," John told him.

"I'm not surprised," Rod teased. "Law school at Harvard didn't prepare you nearly well enough for such a weighty responsibility."

John laughed. "Spoken like a typically humble and astute Yalie."

"It gets easier," Rod assured him with a smile. "I remember my first couple of months on the trial court bench. Routine matters that I'd seen handled and had participated in hundreds of times seemed completely foreign. I swear I forgot everything I'd ever known about the rules of evidence. I felt like the village idiot masquerading as the judge most of the time."

Both John and Syd laughed.

"Give it a little time. You'll be fine and will come to love the challenge of it."

"Thanks for the reminder," John told him as he and Syd sat back down.

"Enough law talk," Alex's husband, Matthew Craig, interrupted from across the room. "I hear it's been unseasonably warm in Atlanta the past couple of weeks. How's the golf game?"

"Not bad overall," Rod admitted, taking a seat in the middle of the room near the fireplace. "Handicap is down another point. But my short game is giving me fits."

"I'll be down in a few weeks. Why don't we look at it then."

"Sounds good," Rod agreed. Matt was a retired professional golfer who designed golf courses, and periodically worked as a network golf analyst. "How's business?"

"You know," he shrugged, "the usual. Spend most of my time lately trying to get your sister to quit working so many hours."

Rod laughed but then looked at his father.

"Don't look at me," Will protested raising his hands in surrender. "I have the same argument with her almost daily."

"Where is she by the way?" Rod asked.

"Where's who?" Alex asked walking into the room with Elizabeth.

Rod turned and stood to greet her. "You," he told her. He warmly embraced her and then looked her over. "You look terrible."

"Thanks a lot," she replied.

"I mean it. I'm worried about you. You've lost weight and you look really pale."

Alex quickly looked over at Matt, who nodded in return. "Well, you can thank your newest niece or nephew for that," she told him loud enough for the room to hear.

"You're pregnant?" Sydney, Rod and Rebecca exclaimed at once. Will and Elizabeth had known about it for a number of weeks, but had been sworn to secrecy.

Alex nodded with a big smile. "Thirteen weeks and everything looks okay."

Rod hugged her tight. "Congratulations, kiddo. You deserve this." She'd been through so much to get to this point.

"Thanks," she told him. "It's good to have you home again."

With his arm around her, Rod looked at his brother-in-law. "If she doesn't take good care of herself and my nephew, you let me know. I have ways of handling her."

"I'll keep that in mind," Matt said returning his smile while Alex playfully hit her big brother.

Sydney, John, and Rebecca took their turns offering congratulations and Elizabeth suggested they continue the discussion over dinner.

When the baby talk was exhausted, Rod moved on to questions about his other nieces and nephews—their schooling, activities, and even their friends. He grilled Sydney about her work as a freelance fashion designer, and Alex and their father about the bank, the financial markets, and the relative strength of the dollar. Of course, he also wanted to know about his mother's work at the clinic, and he had several questions for his parents about their upcoming trip to Africa. Twice a year they spent four weeks in Africa with his mother working with Doctors without Borders and his father helping the local business communities with finances and investment strategies.

Those conversations got Rod through dinner and dessert unscathed. Afterwards he volunteered to wash the dishes and quickly got to work. As he put the last dish in the dishwasher, he silently congratulated himself for warding off all questions about Cooper and Mac. However, when he turned around to dry his hands he was confronted by the twins and his grandmother looking at him like they were on the warpath. "Are y'all checking to see if I did a thorough job with the plates? Or that I loaded the dishwasher correctly?" he asked naively. "I can assure you I did. Now, who's up for a good game of charades?"

"Have you talked to her yet?" Alex asked.

"Talked to who?" he replied innocently. He was somewhat surprised that his mother didn't seem to be in on the ambush. Instead she simply stood to the side and appeared to be listening only with mild interest as she put the leftover food into the refrigerator.

In reality, however, Elizabeth was paying close attention to the exchange and was intently studying his body language.

"Mackenzie," the three of them answered at once with hands on their hips.

"No," he told them.

"Why not?" Syd said.

"Because I have no reason to talk to her," he insisted. "Why would I?"

"Rod," Sydney told him, "obviously she wants you—expects you to call. Why else would she have hired Cooper? You can't just ignore her."

"Syd," he said taking a deep breath, "she's the President of the United States. She doesn't make personnel decisions to get a guy she dated and broke up with more than twenty years ago to call her. She hired him because he was the best candidate for the job. That's it."

"Yeah right!" Alex exclaimed. "Of course, Cooper's the best one for the job. He's a great kid. But it has everything to do with you… and you know it."

"That's…."

"Roderic," Rebecca interrupted decisively. When he looked at her, gently she told him, "She's never married and you've been alone for a long time. I remember the way the two of you were together. You were soul mates. I've seen the look on your face when she's on television or her name is mentioned. You obviously still have feelings for her. She must feel the same. Otherwise she never would have hired him—no matter how qualified he is for the job."

"You're wrong," he protested. "About all of it—especially the soul mate thing. And I do not get a 'look' on my face. Her decision to hire Cooper has nothing to do with me. We had a relationship when we were kids. It was good while it lasted. But that's it. There is nothing else."

Elizabeth saw his fist clinch and heard the edge in his voice. It was time to intervene. They'd pushed him as far as was prudent. Fortunately she was saved by the arrival of John and Matt, who like Will, had been wise enough to stay out of the way.

"Ready to go, Syd?" John asked winking at Rod. _Poor guy_, he thought. The Calloway women were a formidable bunch particularly when united in a cause. "Remember we promised the kids we'd all stay up late and watch a movie together."

"We'd better get going, too, Alex," Matt added. "We told the babysitter we'd be home early and you've had a long week."

After the others left and his grandmother went up to bed, Rod said to his mother, "The moon is full tonight. I'm going to walk down to the boathouse and enjoy the reflection of the rays on the Sound."

"Want some company?" she asked gently.

He shook his head. "I'm okay. Need a little air is all."

"I understand," she replied. She hugged him and could feel the tension in his body. Looking up into his face she told him, "They love you and want only for you to be happy."

"I know," he said with a sigh. "I just don't need that right now."

She nodded. "I love you, too."

"Me, too," he responded with a smile. He kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks for everything—including dinner. I won't be long."

"Okay." Elizabeth watched him walk away. Maybe Cooper's job and the badgering of his sisters and grandmother was the best thing that could have happened.

The double loss of first Mackenzie and then Lauren in such a short period of time had cut him deeply. He hadn't opened his heart to a relationship since. He said it was because he hadn't met the right person yet, which was a lie. She believed he hadn't yet made peace with that loss. He fought it. He ignored it. But he hadn't accepted it—not really. Of course, there was no answer except God's will for why Lauren had been taken so young. She knew that intellectually he understood. He put on a happy face for the twins and had done everything in his power to see that they didn't suffer because of her death. But emotionally he remained raw. He hadn't moved on to where he could see that love and loss are essential parts of living. Maybe Cooper's new job would be the catalyst for him finally to find peace and reconciliation there… and closure with Mackenzie.

When Lauren was alive, he'd been able to forget about Mackenzie—how he'd felt about her and the way it had ended between them. She wasn't relevant to the life he'd built with Lauren. But over the past thirteen years as time had marched on and the twins had grown and demanded less of his energy, Mackenzie had unknowingly crept back into his soul. Elizabeth doubted he was aware of her presence there—until perhaps yesterday.

Now he'd be forced to confront those emotions: the love and the hate, the joy and the sorrow. It would be painful. As his mother, she wished with everything in her that she could ease his burden. However, such a journey was necessary. Making peace with Mackenzie might be the only thing that finally could heal his battered and wounded soul, and again afford him the courage to give his heart to someone.

XXXXXXXXXX

Rod put on his coat and walked outside across the back lawn to the boathouse. He loved the water. He always had. It was a haven to him. He sat down on the edge of the dock and breathed in the cold winter air hoping it would help clear his mind. It didn't. He pulled the hood of his duffel coat over his head and shoved his hands in his pockets.

His grandmother and sisters were crazy. Mac's hiring of Cooper had nothing to do with him. What a joke! He didn't need a relationship. He didn't want a relationship. He'd loved twice and lost twice. Loved two women, who although similar, had approached life and love from very different perspectives. Fate—or God—had chosen to terminate his partnership with Lauren, while Mackenzie had chosen to give up on their relationship. Yet the end result of both fate and choice, although varying greatly in duration and intensity, had been the same for him: devastation. He remembered like yesterday his last words with each of them; and all the feelings of grief, numbness and loneliness came rushing back.

_November 21, 1994_

"_Did you intentionally throw the elbow?" Mackenzie asked._

"_Yes," he conceded turning to face her more directly, "but there's more to…."_

"_How complicated can it be, Rod?" she asked rhetorically. "You assaulted him. It was vicious and cruel. And I can't believe that you would take out your frustration with me on him because I wouldn't have sex with you last night?"_

_He was stunned. "Is that what you think? What you honestly believe?"_

"_What else can I think? Actions speak far louder than words, Rod."_

_After everything they'd shared, how could she ever think that of him? "If you believe that…. Forget it," he said with a disbelieving shake of his head. "What's the point? Your mind is made up. You've made your choice. And you're right. We're finished."_

_He walked away but before he left the room he turned and said, "If you change your mind and decide you want to listen, you know where to find me."_

He knew she'd been angry and that she'd been hurt deeply by someone in the past. He'd hoped that when she calmed down she would feel different. Patiently he'd waited three months for her to come to him ready to listen and to trust. Three months for her to want the future he wanted, and to see the potential for them he saw. But she never came. She chose instead to be with Stanton. Finally he got the message and had moved on. Luckily for him, when he had moved on, Lauren was waiting for him. They had a great life together—a strong marriage. Then fate had intervened and again he'd been left alone.

_April 1, 2003_

"_Please, just one more chapter," Becca asked._

"_From 'Super Fudge,'" Cooper suggested stifling a yawn._

"_No," Becca insisted, "from 'The Secret Garden.' We're almost done."_

"_Oh… okay. But Fudge is next."_

_Rod looked at Lauren and could tell she'd had it. The doctors had told them that the end was near. But it had been a good day for her—a day where her mind was working like before the cancer had ravaged her brain. There were no gaps in her memory. She knew him and the twins and had been able to converse with all of them without limitation. They'd had a wonderful time together as a family all day, including the nightly ritual of story time. "Not tonight," he told their almost seven year-olds, who were out of school for Spring break. "Mommy's had a busy day, and it's long past your bedtime."_

"_Ah, Dad," both twins cried out at once._

_He gave them a look and their complaining stopped instantly. _

"_Come give me a hug and a kiss goodnight," Lauren told them, her voice laced with emotion._

"_Okay, Mommy," Cooper replied scooting next to her on the bed._

_Becca joined them and, with both joy and sorrow, Rod watched all of them embrace. Joy for the relationship they had together, and sorrow for the loss he knew was coming. "Okay, you two," he interrupted eventually. "Time for bed."_

"_I love you, Cooper," Lauren told him as she kissed his cheek._

"_Love you, too," he told her._

_She turned her attention to her daughter. "And I love you, Rebecca Anne." _

"_Me, too, Mommy," Becca replied._

"_Okay… climb on board," Rod told them._

_They threw themselves over his shoulders. Carrying them like two sacks of flour, he turned around to speak with his wife before helping them say their prayers and tucking them into bed. "I won't be long," he told her. "Can I get you anything?"_

"_You've already given me everything I need," she told him with a sweet smile._

_He winked at her and put the twins to bed. When he came back into their bedroom, she had her eyes closed. He quickly and quietly showered and got dressed for bed so he wouldn't disturb her. When he finished he found her awake and waiting for him. He climbed in bed beside her._

"_Thank you for today," she said turning towards him._

"_It was a good day," he agreed, stroking her cheek. "But I bet you're exhausted." He reached across her to turn out the light but she stopped him._

"_Rod…."_

_He heard the soberness in her voice and froze._

_When his eyes met hers she continued, "I'm sorry."_

"_For what?" he asked indulgently. "There's no reason for you to be sorry for anything. I love you and we're in this together."_

"_I know," she said with a tear in her eye. "I love you, too. I can't imagine a better husband than you've been to me. More than that, you are a wonderful father and I know the twins will continue to thrive with your love and care."_

"_Lauren, don't…."_

_She put a finger to his lips and stopped him mid-sentence. _

_Tenderly she held his face in her hands. Silently they looked at each other for long seconds. He was afraid to say anything. He couldn't verbally express what he was feeling. He wanted to be strong and positive with her, and for her. But what he saw in her eyes told him that time had past._

_Finally she spoke, "'How Could I Ever Know?'"_

_As the meaning of her words sank in he closed his eyes. She was saying 'goodbye,' using the title of a song from her favorite musical, 'The Secret Garden.' She loved that soundtrack, and over the years often played it around the house and in the car. Anytime it was performed she insisted on seeing it whether the performers were Broadway professionals or local high school drama students. She'd even chosen a song for each twin from the soundtrack that she'd regularly sung to them when they were infants and toddlers. 'Race You to the Top of the Morning' for Cooper, and 'Hold On' for Becca. He'd promised that the twins would know their songs. He would keep that promise no matter how hard hearing those lyrics would be._

_He opened his eyes and immediately knew he was right. Their time together had run out. He kissed her softly and gathered her up in his arms. He didn't want to let go of this moment. He would stay forever like this if he had the power. Silently and tenderly he held her tight as she slowly slipped away... taking his heart with her._

He felt a hand on his shoulder. He wiped the tears from his eyes and turned around to see his parents. His father extended a hand, which he accepted.

"Are you okay?" his mother asked when he was standing beside them.

"Fine," he assured her with a kiss on the cheek.

"What do you say to watching a comedy tonight?" Will asked. "I could use a good laugh."

Rod chuckled. "Sounds like a plan."

But as they silently walked back into the house, his thoughts returned once more to Mackenzie and Lauren. One was dead and one was alive. But his family was wrong. They'd both been dead to him for years. It was over. There was no going back. Besides, he was happy with his life. He had the twins, his family, his friends and his work. He didn't need anyone or anything else. And he certainly didn't need to live in the past.


	8. State of the Union

**8. State of the Union**

**Tuesday, January 26, 2016**

"Madam President, it's time," the Chief of Staff said as he walked into the anteroom at the Capitol where Mac was waiting with Cooper and her mother, Kate Allen, prior to her first State of the Union address.

"Thank you, Jim," Mac said. Turning to her mother she said, "Do I pass inspection?"

"Absolutely," Kate assured her with a smile. "I'm proud of you and so is Dad."

"Thanks, Mom," Mac said taking a deep breath. "I wish he was here."

"Me, too." Kate touched her arm. "Good luck, honey."

"Thanks," Mac answered with a nod.

"Ma'am," Cooper asked, "do you need anything besides…"

"The speech?" she finished. Although she had the text memorized, after last spring's "accident" with the teleprompter she was leaving nothing to chance.

He nodded and removed a stack of note cards from his pocket and handed them to her.

"You've been a big help these past few days," she told him. In truth, he had no idea what a critical role he'd played in regards to shaping her speech.

He smiled. He loved his job. "I'm glad. Knock 'em dead, boss."

"Just for you," she teased. "Now go play escort to the First Mother."

"Yes, Madam President," he said with a playful bow before offering his arm to Kate.

Kate accepted it as she shook her head. She hated that title. On the other hand, she thoroughly enjoyed watching Mac with Cooper. She'd flown down Friday afternoon and had been flabbergasted to discover the identity of her daughter's new aide. However, over the course of their weekend at Camp David, she'd found that he, like his father, was a delight. Already there was a genuine camaraderie between them, and he was good for Mackenzie. He brought out a side to her she seldom had opportunity to embrace. She doubted whether Mac had recognized that fact yet. But she would. If only Michael were here to enjoy it, too, she thought with a sigh as they walked up to the House gallery.

XXXXXXXXXX

Rod returned home after his weekly basketball game a few minutes before nine p.m. He'd promised Cooper he would watch Mackenzie's speech. Cooper had talked nonstop last night about the helicopter, Camp David, and how 'cool' everyone was—especially her. He turned on the television in his bedroom and quickly showered, emerging from the bathroom in time to hear the Doorkeeper to the House of Representatives shout, "Mr. Speaker, the President of the United States!"

He sat down as the camera closed in on her. She was a little older obviously, but still the same woman he'd known. Her smile lit up the room. She was wearing her diamond and pearl necklace. He'd never seen it on her before. In fact, he'd forgotten about it. However, for some inexplicable reason he was pleased to learn that she still had it in her possession, and that at least on occasion she wore it, too.

As she walked down the center aisle, stopping to shake hands amidst enthusiastic applause, he recalled that long ago afternoon at the mall a few days before Thanksgiving. He and the jeweler had toiled to create the right piece for her while she'd been off shopping with his twin sisters. That had been a magical weekend. Perhaps their best times together—until Sunday night, when something caused her to recoil from him, as they were about to make love for the first time.

After their breakup the following day when she'd chosen Stanton, he'd been sorely tempted to destroy it. In the end, he couldn't. Looking at her now, he'd made the right decision. It suited her perfectly.

He watched with interest as she stepped up onto the rostrum and shook the hands of Vice-President Warren Keaton and the Speaker of the House, Nathan Templeton. As she turned to face the Joint Session of Congress and other executive and judicial officers, the cameras panned the crowd. He hadn't caught sight of Cooper yet, although he was there close by. After a minute the Speaker gaveled the crowded chamber to attention and presented her to the room. Another standing ovation followed before Mac began:

"_Article II, Section 3 of the United States Constitution specifies that 'He shall from time to time give to the Congress Information of the State of the Union, and recommend to their Consideration such Measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient.'__ Well, tonight _she_ has come to do just that—and it is a great honor."_

He smiled at her words, and was surprised at how familiar her voice remained. He was reminded of the last time he'd seen her in person. She'd been making a speech in the House then, too. Not as the President of the United States, of course, but as a second term Representative from the State of Connecticut.

_May 1, 2008_

_His confirmation hearing had ended early for the day and he decided to stretch his legs. He was feeling restless. However, the proceedings were going well, and he was growing more confident he would make it out of committee and be confirmed as a federal court of appeals judge. It had been a hectic few weeks with Monday-Friday spent in DC, and the weekends spent at home making up for lost time with the twins, who were in the sixth grade and would be turning twelve in a few weeks. He'd promised that if it looked positive, they could attend the final votes of the Judiciary Committee and the whole Senate. _

_He walked past the Supreme Court building, around the Library of Congress, and ended up at one of the House office buildings. He went inside and grabbed a drink before deciding to take the underground subway back to the Senate. In the elevator he heard two congressional staffers mention they were on their way to hear Congresswoman Mac Allen give a speech on the House floor._

_Suddenly he couldn't resist. He had to see her. He'd found himself thinking about her while he'd been in Washington. It was nothing more than natural curiosity he assured himself. He rode the Subway to the House side of the Capitol, followed the staffers upstairs to the gallery, and talked his way in unescorted. How ironic that their paths were crossing again here, and that she was the politician and he was the judge. As he walked into the chamber he instinctively knew she was there. Wanting to see, but not be seen, he chose a seat in an area crowded with tourists. A few moments later she rose from one of the benches and walked to the podium. _

_Striking and masterful still, she delivered a fiery and passionate oration on campaign finance reform. In spite of the way it ended between them, he felt proud… and alone. He'd been paraded around all month as the "courageous young widower." He hated it. He missed Lauren every day. But he was no martyr or saint. He was only a man who'd loved twice and lost twice. Fate had dictated his personal circumstance. What was Mackenzie's story? Why hadn't she married?_

The sound of thunderous applause interrupted his thoughts. Once the ovation died down and she continued, he realized that while she'd been a forceful, dynamic speaker back then, she was far better now. He listened as she put forth her agenda: her vision for the nation, and her ideas for foreign affairs, domestic and social policy.

She commanded the room with dignity and ease, as comfortable dominating this realm as she had the law school all those years ago. He felt something deep and unexpected that left him unsettled. Hoping she was almost finished so he could turn the television off and forget about her and the past, he looked at the clock by his bed. He'd remembered too much since Cooper's bombshell. With a frustrated sigh and a silent reminder he was interested only for his son's sake, he returned his attention back to the screen.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mac finished her final substantive point and gazed around the wide, august chamber. She felt good. As was customary she'd been interrupted several times by gracious applause and support. Her conclusion though was what would count the most. This was where she needed to be at her best. However, unlike her first major speech nine months ago, she felt comfortable with both her Office and taking center stage. She also had a much greater understanding of what was expected.

She took a quick breath and continued. "Last week," she declared, "I had the privilege to spend time with a remarkable young man who is wise beyond his years. We were discussing the Great Seal of the United States and how, with its arrows and olive branches, it relates to our role in the world.

"He reminded me that while our military might is obvious, and often essential to the pursuit of peace, our focus should be on our compassion; and on solving problems here at home and around the world, as diplomats and as humanitarians. He told me that he'd 'always been taught that we've been blessed as a nation, and that because of that abundance we have a duty and a responsibility to be a force for good and an instrument of change. That this is who we are as a people, and what we must be.'"

She paused to let the meaning of her words sink in before concluding, "Tonight, that is my challenge for us in this room, and for all Americans. Let our strength be our courage and our compassion. Let us be diplomats and humanitarians. Let us dedicate ourselves to being a force for good and an instrument of change. May God bless us in this endeavor, and may He continue to bless the United States of America."

Mac was pleased by the response as she finished the speech. She looked around and saw smiles on the faces of her Cabinet and even on the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Moreover, the applause seemed to be coming from both sides of the aisle.

She looked to her left and found her mother, standing with Cooper at her side. Suddenly it occurred to her why he had impacted her so strongly. Had fate dealt her a different hand, he—or someone very much like him—would have been her son. She was staring at the road not taken, seeing what could have been. He (along with his father) was what was missing from her life.

XXXXXXXXXX

Kate took a batch of cookies from the oven of the second floor kitchen. Although it was approaching midnight, she was wide-awake and still excited from attending her first State of the Union. She was also anxious to speak with her daughter. Because of the speech they'd mostly talked at each other the past few days rather than to one another. Mackenzie, however, would be on an emotional high tonight, which made it an ideal time for them to converse—particularly about the new man in her life… and his father.

"_There was a great deal of criticism when Teddy Bridges picked Mac Allen to be his vice-presidential candidate."_

Kate turned towards the television as the commentator continued:

"_She was too young and too inexperienced, the pundits declared. She lacked the strength and the ability to be an effective leader. This same censure arose again upon Bridges' death nine months ago. However, similar criticism was directed towards John F. Kennedy prior to his election at forty-three, and to Theodore Roosevelt when he assumed the presidency at forty-two. Look how well they turned out. Tonight President Allen has again demonstrated that she, too, is a force to be reckoned with in American politics. That she is a strong and capable leader, with a vision for this country and the will to see it through…."_

_It's about time_, Kate thought. Michael would be so proud to see her now. He'd always known she was destined for something special, and he knew how to demand her best:

_August 3, 2012_

"_What's going on, baby?" Michael asked as the three of them sat at the kitchen table. Mac had called a few hours ago and said she'd be home for the weekend. They'd been shocked. Their daughter hadn't spent a non-holiday weekend at home since her return from Israel more than two years ago._

"_Can't a girl come home just to spend time with her family?" Mac responded._

"_Of course, you can," she insisted._

_Michael smiled knowingly. "But that's not why you're here."_

"_You know me too well," Mac said with an identical smile. "I've been offered a job—a possible job anyway. I'm not sure whether to accept," she said coyly._

"_Are we supposed to guess?" Michael teased with a wink directed her way._

"_Teddy Bridges has asked me to be his vice-presidential candidate, and I don't know what to make of it."_

_She and Michael looked at each with stunned silence before broad smiles appeared on their faces._

"_That's incredible," she said eventually._

"_I know," Mac answered with a sigh. "Unbelievable."_

"_What are your concerns?" Michael asked getting down to the business at hand. "It can't be the hours because it's not possible to work more hours than you've been putting in the past fifteen months as National Security Advisor. You might actually be able to have a personal life again."_

"_You're right. I'm sure the schedule would be much better. But do I want to give up my freedom? Want to jump back into the political jungle?"_

"_Mac, you may not currently hold elective office, but you've never left politics."_

_Mac raised an eyebrow and tilted her head in a gesture of acknowledgment. "But he's a Republican and I no longer belong to that party."_

"_That doesn't matter," Michael said._

"_It does matter, Dad. What if he expects me to support, or acquiesce to, things I don't believe? How can I live with myself? Compromise myself?"_

"_That's an excuse, Mac," he told her firmly. "You're made of stronger stuff than that…. You set some ground rules at the beginning and force him to stick to them. And when the inevitable differences arise, you work behind the scenes to change his position."_

"_You think I should do it, don't you?"_

"_Yes," he said soberly. "This is your destiny. You can't run. You can't hide. You must embrace it. You will make history and in the process be a role model to millions of women."_

"_You're that sure he will win?" Mac asked._

"_I'm that sure of you," Michael told her._

XXXXXXXXXX

"I thought I'd find you here," Mac said walking into the kitchen as Kate jumped in surprise.

"You startled me."

"You okay, Mom?" Mac asked with a worried brow. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Perfect. I was caught up in my memories and didn't hear you come in," Kate assured her. "You must be feeling great. I bet the mood downstairs was jubilant."

"We're all feeling pretty good," Mac admitted grabbing a cookie. "So far the response has been generally positive."

"I know. I've been listening," Kate told her turning off the television and retrieving a gallon of milk from the refrigerator.

Mac grabbed the plate of cookies along with a couple of glasses and followed her mother to the table. "It feels good to have that pressure off my shoulders."

Kate poured a glass of milk for each of them. "Well, the speech was incredible. You should be proud."

"I had a lot of help."

"I know. But the introduction, the conclusion and the overall theme were yours alone."

Mac smiled sheepishly in return.

"You were talking about Cooper at the end, weren't you?"

"Was it that obvious?" Mac asked.

"Only to someone who knows both of you."

"It wasn't too embarrassing for him, was it? Because that's not what I intended. His words were so powerful, and so perfect for what I was trying to express."

"He was surprised. But pleased, I think," Kate told her. "Honey, what was going on afterwards when you looked up at us?"

"What do you mean?"

"You were smiling and then suddenly you looked as if you'd seen a ghost. Don't worry. Nobody else saw it. But something was obviously affecting you deeply at that moment."

Mac leaned back in her chair and sighed. After a moment she said, "Seeing the two of you standing together, it hit me that had Rod and I stayed together—had he not walked away—Cooper could have been my son."

Kate smiled internally. She'd figured it out. "You've been thinking about Rod a lot, haven't you?"

"How'd you know?"

"Because I'm your mother. I've seen the way you look at Cooper sometimes, and how you are with him. And he's a great deal like his father."

"Yes, he is."

"Mackenzie, what happened between you? What did you fight about? I've never understood what it could have been. The two of you were so happy together and so much in love that last weekend."

Mac put down the cookie she'd been eating. "I don't understand it myself. He assaulted Mike Stanton on the basketball court—threw a deliberate elbow that required stitches around the eye. I lost my temper. I couldn't understand how and why he would do something that cruel. But he wouldn't explain. He simply said we were finished and walked away."

"That doesn't sound like him," Kate said with a slight shake of the head. "Are you sure it wasn't something else? I can't believe he would ever physically attack anyone without just cause."

"That's what I would have thought, too," Mac said. "But if there was a reason, why wouldn't he tell me?"

"I don't have an answer for you," Kate said with a sigh. "The Rod I knew wouldn't give up on what you had so easily. He loved you, Mackenzie. Loved you deeply." She paused to consider the matter. Finally she said, "I don't believe he walked away. There's more to it—there has to be."

"Mom, he walked away," Mac insisted. "I didn't imagine it. I was there."

"Isn't it possible you misinterpreted his action?"

"It's hard to misinterpret someone's back as they are walking out the door. Hard to believe that they love you when that happens," Mac said brusquely, fighting against the hurt, anger and confusion that had returned with this topic of conversation.

"I'm sure it must have appeared like that at the time," Kate replied. Recognizing her daughter's internal struggle, she studied her close hoping to find a gentle, non-threatening way to help her see what she saw. Mac was wearing the pearl and diamond necklace she'd been given for Christmas all those years ago. Perhaps it was time for her to know the truth. "You're wearing the necklace you got for Christmas."

Mac touched her throat. "I love it. I wanted a reminder of you and Dad tonight. I wear it when I need to be strong or want a reminder of home and family."

"I know you think it was from us, which is exactly what you were supposed to think."

"What do you mean?" Mac interrupted. "You gave it to me. How can it not be from you?"

"We gave it to you," Kate agreed. "But it was from Rod."

"Rod?"

"He had it made for you before your breakup, and he wanted you to have it."

Mac was stunned. "How? Why would he do that?"

"Because he loved you," Kate told her plainly. "A few days before Christmas, I received the necklace and a note in the mail. He asked that we give it to you for Christmas and pretend it was from us."

"Christmas was more than a month after we broke up," Mac pointed out.

Kate nodded. She wondered if she still had the note in a box somewhere at home in Bridgeport. "Mac, in the note he said that he still loved you, but that you'd chosen someone else. He also said that he didn't believe trying to change your mind would do any good because you didn't trust him."

She was shocked. The whole thing was so unbelievable. Again the anger and frustration came rushing back. "What did he mean about not trusting him? That's ridiculous. And how could he ever think that there was someone else?"

"I don't know," Kate replied. "But believe me when I tell you, the note and the necklace were not from a man who walked away—a man who wanted to it to be over between you."

_How is that possible?_ Mac thought. Quietly, but with a hint of anger and desperation she asked, "How could you keep this a secret? How could Dad?"

"Because it was what Rod wanted. He didn't want to appear to be a sore loser. He didn't want it to seem like he was trying to manipulate you."

Mac walked over to the sink and got a glass of water. She took a big drink before walking back to the table. Shaking her head she finally said, "I can't believe you didn't tell me. All these years, and you've never said a word."

Kate reached out and put a hand on her arm. "I'm sorry if I made the wrong call. It wasn't easy, but at the time it seemed like the right decision. You never wanted to talk about him or what happened. I tried to get you to open up. But you refused. If you had, I would have told you." She took a deep breath, hoping she hadn't made things worse by telling her the truth. "Mac, the only time we ever talked about him was when you learned about his engagement the following summer. At that point, I decided that knowing about the necklace would only make you feel worse."

"You're probably right about that," Mac acknowledged with a sigh. She fingered the necklace again, trying to understand that what she'd believed to be true for twenty-one years wasn't true at all.

"He also wrote me a note after your father's death," Kate informed her.

"He did?" Mac again was surprised, although there was a closeness between the two of them that had seemed to exist from the moment they'd met.

She nodded. "He told me how sorry he was for my loss; and that he understood the devastation I must be feeling, because he'd been there. He said that he had tremendous respect for your father and that the country had lost a great military leader."

"Daddy liked and respected him, too," Mac remembered. "And he wasn't easy to please."

"No, he wasn't," Kate agreed. "Rod also mentioned you in the note."

"He did?"

"He said how proud he was of all you'd accomplished."

"He really said that?" Mac asked incredulously. "You're not making it up?"

"It's the truth," she said with a smile and a small shake of the head. She remembered what Michael had told her about his conversation with Rod in his study on the night of his birthday party, and how impressed he'd been. "You know, I bet if you check the financial records from your campaigns, you'll find that he and the Calloway family have always been there, quietly supporting you and looking out for you."

Her mother had great instincts about people. But how could she be right about that? And if she were correct, why would he—any of them—have done it?

"Honey, why haven't you married? You used to date, but you don't even do that anymore."

"Who's going to call me up and ask me out, Mom?" Mac replied sardonically.

"I understand that," Kate said ignoring the sarcasm. "But what about before? You've had relationships but you've never been close to marriage—never been in love again that I can tell—not like it was with Rod."

Mac shrugged. "Never seemed to meet the right guy, I guess. I admit it took a long time to get over Rod. When I did, I always seemed to go out with guys who were more interested in being seen with me than they were in being with me. One Senator wanted me to wear flat shoes and walk hunched over so he could feel taller. Others were nervous and intimidated, or they wanted to talk only about politics and debate everything."

"When were you the most happy and content on a personal level?" Kate asked. "I think it was when you were with Rod, in spite of the scars you bore because of what happened in Jerusalem."

Mac nodded with a sigh. She had to acknowledge the truth in her mother's words.

"Where is home for you? Where does your heart belong? Not your head—your heart. Is the White House that place for you? Or is it a convenient place to sleep at the end of very long days?" Kate asked rhetorically. She stood and returned the gallon of milk to the refrigerator, giving her daughter a moment to think.

Returning to the table, she put a hand on her shoulder. "Mackenzie, I love you and I'm proud of you. You love your work, and you are exactly what this country needs in its President. But there's more to life than work and a career. You need a reason to go home at the end of the day and someone to go home to—someone who loves you and knows you, someone who sees you for who you are and not what you do. That is what I want for you, and what your father wanted for you.

"I think that man exists. You only need the courage to reach out and make it happen." She kissed her on the cheek. "Congratulations on the speech, Madam President, but get some sleep. You've had a very long day, and you have an even longer week ahead."


	9. O Jerusalem

**9. O Jerusalem  
Friday, February 12, 2016**

As she stepped aboard Air Force One, Mac greeted Colonel Davidson, her pilot, then headed straight to her cabin. She showered and changed into sweats for the ten and a half hour flight from Tel Aviv to Washington DC.It was close to nine p.m. local time making their arrival at Andrews shortly after midnight. She was certain the Colonel could pinpoint touchdown to the exact minute if she asked.

The last two and a half weeks had been hectic as she'd traveled around the county for a week promoting her agenda after the State of the Union, then had spent almost ten days in the Mediterranean and Middle East: Turkey, Iraq, Jordan, Saudi Arabia, Egypt and finally Israel. It had been her first trip to this critical part of the world as President. She recalled with a smile what Nathan Templeton had thrown at her in an effort to keep her from taking the oath of office upon President Theodore Bridges' death.

_April 20, 2015_

_It was shortly before one a.m. when she was awakened and informed that President Bridges had died. She quickly put on her makeup, dressed in a navy suit with a pale pink shirt, and awaited the arrival of Jim Gardner, then Bridges' Chief of Staff, who would be accompanied by Attorney General Melanie Blackston, and the Chief Justice of the United States. Decision time was at hand. She had to resign or take the oath of office. Before going to bed, she'd decided to respect Teddy's wishes and resign. But she was uneasy. She'd be walking away from her constitutional duty to become President. Could she live with herself? Live with that decision?_

_She walked downstairs to the study and began to review the resignation speech she'd had Kelly Ludlow, her speechwriter, draft. No sooner had she begun to read the speech when the doorbell rang. A minute or so later Jim, Melanie, the Chief Justice and Nathan were shown in. The five of them sat down._

"_At this point," Melanie informed her, "you are technically the President of the United States. Unless you choose to resign," she added hopefully. _

_She listened to the nation's chief law enforcement officer with amusement. Melanie was a bitter, ambitious woman, who resented Bridges' decision to make her his running mate because she believed herself to be the far superior choice. She'd always suspected they were sleeping together. When Melanie finished, she looked over her shoulder to the older man standing behind her. "Is that why you're here, Nathan? Ready to take the Oath of Office as soon as I do 'the right thing' and step aside?"_

"_Would you all give me a few minutes with Ms. Allen?" he said. When the others left the room, he began to pace in front of her. "It's gone fast. Do you know what I resent? I resent that I don't have time to mourn my friend. The Ship of State just sails on regardless." He stopped and looked down at her. "They told me that he asked you to step down. And I think you should."_

"_I'm sure that you do."_

"_No," he clarified, "I'm not telling you to do it out of respect for his wishes. And certainly not because of anything I might want for myself. The world is in turmoil, Mac. It could go any which way. This is not a time for social advances made for the sake of social advances."_

"_Meaning a woman in the Oval Office."_

"_No," Nathan replied, his voice increasing in volume. "Meaning a woman as the leader of the free world. How many Islamic States do you think will follow the edicts of a woman? Very few, I fear," he added quietly."_

"_Well, not only that, Nathan, but we have that whole once a month will she or won't she press the button thing."_

_He chuckled. "Well, a couple of years, you're not going to have to worry about that anymore." He grew serious. "You know that your vice-presidency was never, ever intended to be a presidency. It was done as a stunt. You can see that. You're a female, an independent. The point is, it was all done as pure theater. You got great reviews. But now you should get off the stage while the audience still loves you, and before they figure out that your vice-presidency was a whole lot of nothing. Because when they get a look at that go-away mission he sent you on to Nigeria for what's her name? The adulteress."_

"_Oria Medula."_

"_Well, it was supposed to be another piece of theater," he continued. "But then you up and went to France and asked them for assistance. France?" he said in mocking disbelief. "You asked guys who can't get elected without the Muslim vote to interfere in the verdict of Nigeria's Shirya Court. Come on, Mac." He paused. "And we're going to end up looking silly and ineffectual because you're never going to be able to save her. We're going to lose face. And for what? A lady who couldn't keep her legs together?"_

_She felt a rage and a resolve wash over her. She could not make this man President of the United States. Deliberately, she set her resignation speech on the table and stood to face him. "Nate, I'm going to go out there and take the Oath of Office. I'm going to run the government. And if some Islamic nations can't tolerate a female president, then I promise you, it will be more their problem than mine."_

_A few minutes later, after more meaningless badgering and haranguing from the man, she took the Oath of Office with her hand resting on his Bible._

She sighed. That entire day was largely a blur. But there hadn't been a single minute that she'd regretted changing her mind. She was delighted to have proven Nathan wrong. Leaders of these Islamic countries, as she'd demonstrated again this week, had been quite comfortable in accepting "the edicts of a woman." She wanted to beat that arrogant, pompous old man so badly come November she could taste it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at her cabin door. "Come in," she called out.

"The Colonel says on your word, ma'am," Cooper told her. "Can I get you anything?"

"How do feel about a club sandwich on wheat with fries and a chocolate shake?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied turning to leave.

"Cooper…"

He stopped and turned around. "Ma'am?"

"I was asking if it sounds good to you," she told him with an amused grin. "You are hungry, aren't you?"

"Always," he said returning her smile.

"That's what I thought," Mac said moving towards the phone. "Tell the Steward we'll take two, then come back. We haven't had much time to talk the past week or so. Don't bother knocking."

"Yes, ma'am. Do you want bananas in your shake, too?"

She made a face. "Disgusting. I suppose you also enjoy eating bananas with peanut butter?"

"Only every morning for breakfast," he replied before leaving the cabin.

Mac laughed. She picked up the phone. "Colonel, the word is given. Let's go home."

XXXXXXXXXX

A few minutes later Cooper reentered the cabin. Although he'd been working for three weeks and had already spent countless hours aboard Air Force One, it still didn't seem completely real that he was actually with the President every day and traveling the world aboard what was arguably the world's most exclusive form of transportation.

Mac took off her reading glasses and closed her book. "Did you request our dinner?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Take off your coat and tie. Sit down and relax," she told him gesturing to the other end of the couch.

He did as he was directed.

"Did you get registered for school?" she asked as he sat down.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Cooper, I realize it's too much to ask that you call me Mac or Mackenzie, but can we lose the 'ma'am' or 'Madam President' tonight." Seeing his discomfort she added with a twinkle in her eyes, "I promise I won't tell your boss, or your father."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied with a smirk.

Mac shook her head with a rueful chuckle. "All right. I give up. So which university did you choose and what are you taking?"

"Georgetown. The schedule worked better and their program is stronger. I've got two classes. Colonial American History on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 7:30-9:00 a.m. Thanks for letting me be a late on those days. I'm behind on some of the work from the first couple of weeks I missed, but it made my Dad feel better knowing that I'm actually enrolled in classes instead of doing everything independent study."

"It's important to me, too," she assured him. "How is your father?"

"He's fine. Working hard on some complex decisions right now. He's also happy spring isn't far away so he can work on his golf and tennis games. He's tired of indoor sports."

Mac smiled. It was somehow comforting to discover that he was still the same man. "But he loves his work?"

"Yeah, he does. He says he loves the mental exercise of it. When he gets in the zone, the world could collapse around him and he wouldn't know it. Actually, ma'am," Cooper added, "He's kind of like you that way."

She ignored his comment about the similarities between them, but she couldn't stop herself from thinking about the photograph of him on Cooper's desk in his judicial robe. He was older and more serious in his facial expression, but physically he hadn't changed all that much since law school, except he looked even more like his father had when they'd been dating. If anything he was more attractive to her. _Stop it_, she silently chided. _Don't go there._ "So what's the other class?"

"A Wednesday night seminar on the American Presidency."

"That ought to prove interesting," she said dryly.

"I know," he answered with a big, crooked grin. "That's why I'm taking it."

"Just don't give away all my secrets."

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their dinner, which they ate at her desk. "What did you think of your first foreign trip?" she asked after a few minutes.

"It was awesome."

"Did you get enough free time? Pick up some souvenirs?"

"I took some great shots early yesterday evening around the old city, the Wailing Wall and the Temple Mount. I found a huge olivewood gavel for Dad and a sign that says, 'Shalom Y'all' for Becca."

"Sounds perfect. They'll love them I'm sure. I didn't know you liked photography?"

"It's kind of a hobby for both Becca and I. Our grandparents—Mom's parents—gave us cameras for our birthday when we were about ten to take on trips, and we had a lot of fun with them. We've pretty much been carrying cameras around with us since. Becca uses hers to help her paint and draw while I just like taking pictures of people and places."

"She's an artist?"

He nodded.

"Like your Aunt Sydney."

"Uh huh," he agreed. "That's how she got into it."

"But she wants to be a doctor?"

"Yeah. It's what she's always wanted to do. She likes science classes best."

"Does she have perfect grades, too?"

"Close. Her chemistry classes and stuff are a lot harder—or so she keeps telling me."

"So she's not a competitive person then," Mac commented with a smile.

"Not at all," he replied in a similar fashion. "Like you, ma'am."

Mac laughed. She loved that he was not afraid to banter with her. It was one of many reasons she enjoyed his company. However, he only did it when they were in private, and it was always good-natured and never disrespectful. "So what country did you like best this week?"

"Saudi Arabia and Iraq. I've never been there before. No disrespect intended, because I appreciate their religious beliefs, but I'm glad I'm not a woman there."

"Me, too," Mac acknowledged. "You've been to the other places?"

"Dad, Papa and Nana took us on a cruise to Turkey and the Greek Isles over Christmas vacation when we were fifteen. We also went to Egypt, Israel and to Petra in Jordan." Then and now he'd been most fascinated by Jerusalem, a critical place to three of the world's major religions. "Ma'am, what was it like being Ambassador to Israel? I bet it was cool to live there again, wasn't it? There's so much history there—and conflict."

"It was good to come back," she agreed. "My Hebrew was rusty at first. Luckily it came back, and I picked up a little more Arabic, too. But it was also a challenging time. We were still primarily responsible for peacekeeping in Iraq with thousands of troops stationed there. Iran had begun to reassert itself through funding anti-American terrorists groups and the development of weapons grade uranium and plutonium. All of which, made our allies in the area very skittish. Of course, while we no longer have near the troop presence in Iraq, many of the same challenges remain."

"Like they have throughout history," he thought aloud. "But it helped prepare you to be President."

"You're right," she said. Her eighteen months as ambassador followed by her years as first Deputy, then National Security Advisor, had helped prepare her for her current responsibilities. Far more, in fact, than her two years as Vice-President had done.

Mac picked up her glass and drained the last of her milkshake. "Did you get enough to eat?"

"Yes, ma'am," Cooper answered. Believing their conversation to be finished he said, "Thank you for dinner. Do you need anything else?"

"Just your company," she told him. "I don't want to sleep or my body clock will be screwed up for days. And I don't want to talk about work or politics. You mentioned during our first meeting that your Dad would take you to different historical sites around the country. I bet you went to a lot of ball games."

"Always," he said with a smile of fond remembrance. "One summer we spent several weeks traveling the country in an RV. We hit every major league park and quite a few minor league ones, too."

"I bet Becca loved that," Mac told him.

"She pretends otherwise, but she likes baseball. Aunt Syd and Alex spent some time with us, so did Nana and Papa. They would take her shopping and stuff," he informed her. "Plus in return, Dad and I were forced to go to a lot of chick flicks."

Mac grinned. Generally it was easy to picture Rod in the role of "Dad." But at other times she could only picture him as she'd known him: young and free. "Was he strict with you?"

"He was pretty demanding when it came to school, staying away from drugs and alcohol, and stuff like that," Cooper acknowledged. "We never wanted to disappoint him—still don't. But so long as we kept some basic rules, he didn't care if we had friends over or parties. In fact, our house was kind of party central. I think he liked it that way. We have a pool, home theater and game room, a big yard with a tennis court."

"A basketball court and a batting cage?" she suggested with a smile.

"With lights," he grinned back.

"Sounds a lot like your grandparents home in Greenwich."

"I guess it is," he replied. He hadn't thought about how many similarities there were. "You've been there?" he asked with an involuntary yawn.

She nodded. "Many years ago when your father and I were dating. The twins and Christopher were all in high school. I've always thought your grandparents were smart to create a fun and welcoming environment that would keep your Dad, aunts, uncles and all their friends at home where they could set the rules and keep an eye on things. Sounds like that's what your Dad has done with you and Rebecca."

"You're right," he answered stifling another yawn. "I never looked at it that way before. Pretty sneaky, too."

"Yes, it is," Mac agreed with a chuckle. "You're tired. I'll get you a pillow and a blanket and you can sack out on one of the couches that pulls out into a bed."

"Thank you, ma'am, but I'm okay," he protested.

"Cooper," she insisted, "there's absolutely nothing I need you for right now. You've been staying up late studying and working long hours every day. I know how crazy and noisy the back of the plane can be on return flights, and how uncomfortable the seats can be on long flights. Besides with you asleep in here, nobody will bug me and I can finish my book. So no argument."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you." He was tired. The past few weeks had been crazy between work, and trying to get caught up in school. Of course, he was behind again because of their travels. Tomorrow he had to study all day. But at least he'd managed to convince a cute girl in his history class to go out with him tomorrow night.

XXXXXXXXXX

Hearing Cooper softly snore, Mac put down her book and watched him sleep. She was reminded of how frequently Rod had done the same thing when they'd been watching a late night movie together sprawled out on his couch.

Cooper had asked her about returning to Jerusalem as Ambassador. He, of course, had only known about how valuable her time as a student at Hebrew University had been. He knew nothing of David Cavannaugh, her first love; or the hurt and heartache she'd endured because of his betrayal of marrying another woman when they were supposed to be engaged. Hurt and heartache that had impacted her so strongly that she'd initially considered refusing the ambassadorship. For weeks she was apprehensive about returning. However, once there she felt none of the devastation she remembered in regards to their relationship. In fact, she'd had a hard time remembering what David looked like. He was only a distant memory.

Instead the face that had come to mind belonged to Rod: His tall, lean build, thick hair and masculine scent; soulful eyes that were so unique in color; and of course, his playful, cocky grin. The only resonant pain she felt was because of him, and the way it had ended between them. Now it seemed that every thought not directed towards the presidency belonged to him. She touched her necklace and realized how often she'd worn it since learning its true origin. She had a hard time comprehending how he had walked away without looking back if he loved her like the necklace attested. Was her mother right? Had she somehow got it wrong?

She looked at the young man sleeping across from her and realized how many wonderful qualities he'd learned from his father—except for the bananas and peanut butter habit. Her mother had been right about one thing. Rod's physical reaction on the basketball court against Mike was very out of character. More and more she was coming to the unavoidable conclusion that like her necklace, things weren't as they'd appeared. They couldn't be. What was she missing? More important, who could help her find the answers she needed?


	10. Recognizing What Was

**10. Recognizing What Was  
Thursday, February 18, 2016**

As Mac shook the hand of the last of the Dallas donors in the receiving line before the $5,000 a plate fund raising dinner, she knew she would recall nothing about any of them—their names, faces, line of work. Nothing. She'd always prided herself on her ability to focus on the task at hand. Well, she'd failed spectacularly tonight.

She was distracted by her old friend, Mike Stanton, standing next to her. He'd contacted her several months ago and had offered to help with the campaign in Texas. She hated these things but in the American political system "money made the world go round." She was coming to accept it. If she wanted to stay in the game, she had to play the game. Play it better than anyone else ever had. He'd done a fantastic job in organizing this event and in making the introductions. He also had the answers to the questions that had plagued her the past month. After the last donor had moved into the hotel ballroom, she turned to him and his wife, Kristin.

"Thank you both," she said warmly. "Tonight has been a pleasure."

"You're welcome," Mike told her. "It wasn't all that difficult. There are plenty of wealthy moderates out there who are sick of both political parties. They are anxious to lend their support. You're going to win, Mac—Madam President."

"I hope so," she said. "If I don't it won't be because the effort or dedication wasn't there." She turned to Kristin, whom she'd met for the first time this evening. "Would you mind if I borrowed him for a few minutes after dinner? There's a matter we need to discuss."

"Of course," Kristin replied. She was thrilled to have her husband in the role of informal advisor to the President of the United States.

"Thank you." Mac turned to him. "I'll have my aide show you up to my suite."

"The tall blond kid?" he asked.

Mac nodded.

"You know, he has different coloring, but something about him reminds me of…"

"Rod?" she interjected in a deliberately casual tone. "He should. His name is Cooper Calloway."

"Rod's son?" he asked in disbelief.

"The very same."

"Wow. What a small world," he commented.

"Isn't it," she answered dryly before beginning her walk into the ballroom as the opening strains of "Hail to the Chief" heralded her arrival.

XXXXXXXXXX

Two hours later, after quickly changing into casual clothes, Mac paced the floor of her suite barefoot. She was having second and third thoughts about the plan she'd impulsively set in motion downstairs before dinner. But what choice did she have? She had to know the truth. She was haunted by it. When she heard the expected knock at the door, she took a deep breath and walked towards the small foyer as Cooper and Mike entered.

"Thanks, Cooper. Why don't you call it a day," she suggested to him. "I know you need to study and tomorrow will be busy." In the morning they'd be in southwest Texas for a visit with border patrol followed by lunch with the troops at Fort Bliss. Afterwards they'd fly to Houston for a speech on energy and fossil fuels before another fundraiser tomorrow evening and a late flight home.

"Yes, ma'am. Goodnight," he said. He turned to Mike. "It's nice to meet you, sir."

"You, too," Mike answered with a smile. Cooper seemed like a great kid. Probably a lot like his father, had he been able to see Rod accurately all those years ago.

Mac watched Cooper leave and took another deep breath. "Thanks for giving me a few minutes," she told Mike as she walked into the living room area.

"Anything for you," he said following her.

Once they were seated, he asked, "What can I help you with?"

"Nothing serious," she replied with a shrug. "I'm curious about a few things and know that you have the answers."

"Okay," he said confused. "Curious about what?"

"What happened between you and Rod? Why was there such animosity between you?"

Mike was shocked. This was the conversation he'd always dreaded having with her. "Madam President, why do you want," he stopped. He knew 'why.' He'd met 'why.' "Oh… I see."

"What was it, Mike?" she pressed. "Why were you so negative about him? Why did you hate him?"

"It was more than twenty years ago," he said trying to deflect her from her course.

"I realize that," she said impatiently. "But tell me anyway. You owe me the truth."

Seeing the resolve on her face, he sighed. "We had some run ins on the baseball diamond and over a girl in college, which was mostly my problem. What can I say? I was young, dumb and had an enormous chip on my shoulder. And I was jealous of everything he had—including you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you," he told her. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"I had no idea," she insisted.

"I know," he said with a smile. "It's ancient history. We would not have been good for each other. We're too much alike. But back then I was blinded by jealousy, though I didn't recognize it at the time."

"Why did he throw that elbow on the basketball court?"

"Mac…"

"Mike, that was very out of character for him. I need to understand. Please?"

He took a deep breath. He hadn't seen her like this before—or not in a long time. Obviously this was weighing heavily on her. "He did it because I had it coming to me. In fact, he owed me a lot more."

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't mean to injure the guy—I really didn't. I was angry because of what we saw at the movies. I thought he was two-timing you and I didn't want you hurt."

"What are you saying?" she asked as her heart pounded in her chest.

"I was the one who gave the hard foul that caused him to break his arm."

She felt suddenly nauseous. "What?"

"It's true," he confirmed. "I was stupid, angry and lost control."

"Mike, he was with his sister," Mac suddenly remembered.

"I know that now. I didn't then. And neither did you. You were devastated and it broke my heart."

"Why didn't you tell me when I asked you about it afterwards?"

He shrugged. "I didn't want to mess us up, and figured that if Calloway hadn't said anything then why should I?"

"But what about after the elbow?" she asked intently. "What about then? You saw my reaction. You knew what I was going to do."

"I told you I had it coming. I told you to leave it alone. But you didn't listen—didn't want to listen."

"You could have stopped me," she insisted.

"Could I?" he asked pointedly. "You're formidable when your mind's made up. Besides, was it really the elbow that caused you to react like you did?"

"What do you mean?"

He took a deep breath. "Was it about me? Or was it about what you felt for him? I think you were afraid."

"Afraid? Of what?"

"The two of you were incredibly close—closer than your level of comfort. I think you expected to be hurt and you struck out before that could happen."

He'd had many years to think about what had happened. About her, about how she and Calloway had been together, and about why she'd never married. Obviously she'd never fully made peace with what had happened with Rod or she wouldn't be asking these questions. He'd finally found lasting happiness eight years ago with Kristin. However, he still cared about her, and wanted her to be similarly satisfied. Maybe it was good they were having this conversation. Maybe it would help her in that regard. She had the most personally isolating job in the world. She had to be lonely.

"I know I didn't help matters there with all the crap I gave you," he added wryly. "And I'm very sorry."

She did not like the direction this conversation was taking. She stood and walked towards the wide balcony doors, which overlooked the cityscape. But there was no escape. After a moment, she turned and walked back, arms folded in a defensive posture. "I can't believe you didn't say anything but just let me go off. And why didn't Rod say anything? Why didn't he explain when I confronted him? Why did he walk away?"

He stood and joined her. "Come sit down," he said leading her back to the couch. Afterwards he told her gently, "I don't know about Calloway. I can't help you there. Only the two of you know what happened between you that day. But I know you when you're in a huff. Did you give him a chance to explain?"

"Mike, he almost died because of that broken arm."

"I know," he acknowledged. "It's one of the biggest regrets of my life. Mac, he had to throw that elbow. I wanted him to do it. But he and I made our peace a long time ago—before graduation, in fact."

Mac shook her head. "I can't believe he didn't tell me when it happened? Why with your obvious animosity towards him would he do that?

"I don't know, but I can guess. He was protecting someone—and it wasn't me."

"Me?"

"He loved you, Mac," he told her. "I couldn't see it and accept it then. But it's true."

"He knew how I hated the dissension between you, hated to be kept in the dark."

"Yes, and he also knew that we had to work closely together on journal for the rest of the year. How difficult would that have been for you if you'd felt caught in the middle, or worse if you despised me?"

She pondered his words.

"He's a strong man. I'm sure he had his pride. And no man is going to get caught tattling to his girlfriend that one of her friends is a bully."

"Yeah," she acknowledged with a huge sigh.

He put a hand on her knee. "I am sorry."

"I've kept you too long. Thank you for your honesty and for your work in putting tonight together. It far exceeded any of our expectations. Thank Kristin for me. It was nice to meet her finally. She seems like a terrific woman. We'll talk again soon." She stood and began to walk towards the door.

Mike followed. She'd gone back into her private, emotionally controlled world. However, there was more that needed to be said. Before he opened the door, he queried, "Can I ask you a couple of questions?"

"I guess," she responded with mild disinterest. She wasn't in the habit of saying 'no' to friends.

He waited until he had her attention. "Why didn't you ask these questions years ago when it might have made a difference? Why only now?"

"Goodnight, Mike," she answered opening the door.

"Goodnight, Madam President."

XXXXXXXXXX

Afterwards, Mac sat in a chair staring out the window. She was in shock. Her world, or at least her perceptions of it, lately seemed to be constantly turned upside down like an hourglass. How must her reaction have appeared to Rod? He'd been doing his best to watch out for her and protect her, and she unwittingly threw it in his face. But why had he walked away without a fight—without trying to make her listen and work through it. That was as out of character for him as throwing the elbow. She probed the deepest recesses of her mind looking for anything that would help her understand.

_November 21, 1994_

_After taking Mike to the emergency room to be stitched up, she took him home. Once he was settled she returned to the law school and found Rod. She was as angry as she'd ever been in her life. To assure themselves of privacy, they met in the small study room—Room 112—where they'd had their first date._

"_What do you want to talk about?" Rod asked taking a seat at the table in the center of the room._

_His feigned innocence further heightened her anger and frustration. "You know exactly what I want to talk about."_

"_Mike?"_

"_Of course, Mike," she answered impatiently. "What else is there?" she added, her voice increasing in volume and fury. "I can't believe you did what you did. We're finished."_

_He sighed. "Look, Mac, I'm sorry Stanton got hurt. But he…." He stopped speaking. After a moment he quietly asked, "Do you want to hear my side of the story?"_

"_What's there left to say? What you did pretty much speaks for itself, don't you think?"_

"_It's not that simple," he said._

"_Did you intentionally throw the elbow?" she asked. She felt angry, embarrassed, and unsettled. His calm, unbothered demeanor made it worse._

"_Yes," he conceded turning to face her more directly. "But there's more to…."_

"_How complicated can it be, Rod?" she asked rhetorically. She wasn't in the mood to listen. She was in the mood to cross-examine. "You assaulted him. It was vicious and cruel. And I can't believe that you would take out your frustration with me on him because I wouldn't have sex with you last night?"_

"_Is that what you think? What you honestly believe?" he asked, a look a total shock on his face._

"_What else can I think?" she persisted impatiently, failing to comprehend how her words were impacting him. "Actions speak far louder than words."_

"_If you believe that…. Forget it," he said with a shake of his head. "What's the point? Your mind is made up. You've made your choice. And you're right. We're finished."_

_Too angry to speak, she watched him walk away. But before he left the room he turned and said, "If you change your mind and decide you want to listen, you know where to find me."_

"If you change your mind and decide you're ready to listen, you know where to find me." She sighed. Those were the words she'd been unable to recall the past month. She'd thought he'd been taunting her with those words. Was it possible that even after all the hateful, hurtful things she'd said, that he'd been leaving the door open for them? Had she been too proud and too afraid to recognize it for what it was?

He'd never pressured her to have sex. Never grew impatient because of her reticence, which had been caused by David. Even their last night together when she'd freaked out on him, he'd lovingly told her it could never be right until it was right for both of them. He must hate her for the accusations she'd unfairly leveled at him. All these years she'd thought that he'd given up on her—on them.

Her mother had asked her why she'd never married. She hadn't known the answer. All she'd been able to come up with was that it "just never happened." While over the years her career had increasingly complicated things, the truth of the matter was that subconsciously she'd compared every man she met to him, and all of them had come up short. Finally she gave up and focused on other aspects of her life—her career, her parents, her friends.

Maybe she wouldn't have become President without that focus, but somehow that didn't seem enough anymore. She finally understood what her father had been trying to tell her with his last words. Her mother was also right. Was the White House home or simply a place to lay her head at the end of the day? It had felt like home. Now it didn't—not really. When had that changed?

She knew the answer. It changed the moment a blond, blue-eyed, smart, curious young man with a big smile and a patient, playful personality walked into her office and awakened feelings she'd forgotten had ever existed. She smiled wryly. How ironic? She was finally recognizing what was and now there was nothing she could do about it. Except perhaps to quit the campaign and willingly give up the job she loved in eleven months. What man could ever see her as a person and not a President? Even then there were no guarantees that such a man existed. Of course, there were no guarantees she would win the election either.

Who was she kidding? She'd had her chance with the best and had blown it. She'd been a coward and a fool. There was nothing she could do about it now.


	11. Judge Calloway Goes to Washington

**11. Judge Calloway Goes to Washington  
Wednesday, March 2, 2016**

When Mac walked into the Oval Office she was surprised to find Cooper still dressed in his white tie and tails. Conversely she had shed her gown and heels at the earliest opportunity. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Straightening up," he told her. "You said that you had more work to do."

"I didn't mean to include you in the statement," she informed him as she walked towards the desk. "I have reports to read, but you certainly don't need to stay."

"Thank you, ma'am. But you're here, so I'm here." One of the first things Vince had stressed was his duty to be available to the President whenever she was working.

"All right," she conceded as she sat down. "What did you think of your first State Dinner?" The new Emperor of Japan was in town for an official visit which had included an arrival ceremony this morning on the South Lawn followed by joint statements to the press, a lengthy intimate conversation, and a formal dinner tonight.

"It was awesome," he said with a big grin. "Thank you for letting me go. Wait until Dad and Becca hear about it."

"You were a big help," she told him. "In fact, the Emperor was so impressed that he has issued a special invitation for you to attend tomorrow night's reciprocal dinner at the Japanese embassy."

"Really?" he asked with a disbelieving smirk. "You're kidding?"

She shook her head. "I'm not. Think you can handle playing escort a second time?" she teased.

"Do I have to wear this monkey suit again?" he asked tugging at his collar, which was so tight that it seemed to be cutting off his circulation.

She laughed. "I'm afraid so."

He groaned.

"Go change and then leave the tuxedo with me. I'll have it cleaned and pressed for you."

"Yes, ma'am." At least he wouldn't have to worry about that in the morning; and the Emperor was a pretty cool dude, who knew his baseball. "Do you need anything?"

"A ginger ale in a tall glass of ice and the defense section of the budget."

He nodded.

With a smile, she watched him leave the office. Emperor Yamamoto was a formal and reserved man, the second son who had reluctantly assumed the throne four months ago upon the unexpected death of his elder twin brother, who had died childless. The agenda for the visit was not heavy or intense because, as the ceremonial head of state, he did not participate in the running of the government on a daily basis. It was a good will visit. Nonetheless, their conversation this afternoon had felt stilted and awkward. She'd tried to draw him out in a hundred different ways, covering a hundred different topics. But it seemed she rarely got more than a few words out of him at a time.

However, he was a huge baseball fan. Unfortunately she lacked the knowledge to converse with him in any great detail on the subject. She'd invited a Japanese pitcher, who plays for the Washington Nationals, to attend tonight's dinner as her escort. When he came down with food poisoning this afternoon, she'd asked Cooper to fill in. Best diplomatic move of the day, she thought wryly.

The Emperor, who had only daughters and granddaughters, had taken an immediate liking to Cooper; and the two of them had happily talked baseball throughout the evening, only stopping for the formal toasts and after dinner entertainment in the East Room. Of course, what was not to like? It was hard to believe he was a teenager—at least for another couple of months. She'd have to start thinking about his birthday gift. With a contented sigh, she put on her reading glasses and got to work.

XXXXXXXXXX

When he returned Mac looked up and smiled. He'd changed back into his suit pants and dress shirt. However, the collar was open, and his tie was draped around his shoulders. "I see the tie didn't quite make it back into its proper place," she said with humor.

"No ma'am. It seems to have lost its way." He handed her the drink and put the budget, which he'd been cradling like a football, on her desk.

"Thanks," she said taking a big gulp and enjoying the burn. She didn't drink much soda. Every once in a while though, like tonight, she craved carbonation. "That hit the spot. By the way, how is it that you know so much about baseball in Japan?"

"I spent any free time I had this afternoon and evening on the Internet reading up on it."

She shook her head with a grin. "If you're not careful, I may make you Ambassador."

"There's an official Ambassador to Baseball?"

"No," she replied unnecessarily with another shake of the head. "We could create one, I suppose. Until then, I was thinking of Japan."

"Would never work," he told her. "I don't eat fish or sushi."

She laughed. "Get out of here. I have reading to do, and you're distracting me. Anything I don't have can wait until the morning."

"You sure?" he asked.

"Positive."

"Okay," he replied and began to walk towards the outer office. About halfway to the door, however, he stopped and turned around. "Ma'am?"

Mac looked up. "Yes?"

"I was wondering," he said tentatively taking a few steps towards her. "Well, I kind of have a favor to ask."

She smiled at him indulgently and put down the report she'd been reading. "Sit down and tell me what you need."

He sat across from her. "I was wondering if it would be okay for me to take off a couple of hours on Friday morning. I checked the schedule and you're in the office all day. No public events."

"What's going on?" she asked taking off her glasses and resting her forearms on her desk.

"I talked to my Dad a few minutes ago. He's got to cover for a colleague and judge a moot court competition at Georgetown that morning. I'd like to watch and have lunch with him afterwards—if it's okay with you. I haven't seen him since I started working."

Mac froze. "Rod's coming here?"

Cooper was surprised and confused by her response. He'd never seen her flustered before. "Yes, ma'am."

Regaining her composure, she asked, "What's on the schedule for that afternoon?"

"Not much. You're supposed to leave for Camp David about three o'clock."

"That's right." She'd invited her longtime friends and colleagues, Carl Brantley and Anthony Prado, and their families to join her there for part of the weekend. "Take the day off. Laura and I can survive without you for one day," she told him with a wink.

"Thanks."

"Is he staying for the weekend?" she asked casually.

Cooper nodded. "We're going to look for an apartment for me that's closer to work, and watch the Wizards play Saturday night. Too bad baseball's a month away, although at least Spring Training games start this week."

Mac was grateful baseball season was a month away because she desperately needed the practice. "Are you going to bring him around?'

"Saturday afternoon," he replied. "That's the plan, I think. He's not sure about it—he doesn't want to get in the way. He knows how busy you are. But I told him it would be okay because you would be gone."

Mac leaned back in her chair as it sunk in that he would actually be in town this weekend. "I could never be too busy for an old friend. Feel free to give him the grand tour, including upstairs, if you want. I'll tell the Service to give you free rein."

"Thanks. I know he'd love to see the Treaty Room and the Lincoln Bedroom," he said with a yawn. "I can't wait to show him the trap door in the Press Room. That's the coolest thing ever."

Mac was amused by his fascination with the trap door. Although every time she stepped to the podium these days, her eyes were drawn down to it. "Don't forget the view from the Truman Balcony?" she suggested lightly.

"I won't," he assured her.

"Go home and don't come back until nine o'clock."

"Yes, ma'am," he smiled. "Good night."

"Good night, Cooper."

XXXXXXXXXX

Ten minutes later, after reading the same paragraph seven times, she gave up and put the report down. He simply was not going to allow her to work. Funny how in the course of six weeks he'd gone from existing as "he who must not be named" in the periphery of her mind, to being the central figure there. Had his world been similarly turned upside down because of Cooper's choice? Did she now dominate his thoughts like he pervaded hers? And if so, what must he think of her? He must hate her for the way she'd reacted all those years ago. For the harsh, hurtful things she'd said and for the way she'd recoiled from his touch their last night together. But regardless of his feelings towards her, he'd been incredibly supportive of his son. Maybe he didn't hate her. She hoped so.

She set her reading glasses on her desk, and walked outside. Although it was a cold night, she was sorely tempted to go for a jog. But it was late and running wouldn't stop her from thinking about him. Nothing seemed to have that power.

Rod was coming to Washington. As she walked slowly along the colonnade enjoying the quiet and the brisk air, it hit her that on Saturday afternoon he would be walking here, too. What would he think? Would he think about her like she was now thinking about him? Coincidentally, she realized with a sardonic smile, the last time she'd seen him had been in this city, too.

_April 14, 2008_

_Mac looked at the wall clock in her office in the Rayburn House Office Building. It was 9:55 a.m. Rod's confirmation hearing would be commencing in five minutes. Last week the Senior Senator from Connecticut had contacted her, fishing for information about him. The Senator was on the Judiciary Committee and somehow had learned that the two of them had dated in law school. Over the past several years, judicial confirmation hearings had become ugly and partisan with many nominations for the federal bench getting stalled in committee for months and months. Moreover, the Senate was currently split 50-50 between the parties, with the Republicans maintaining control by virtue of the vote of Vice President Teddy Bridges. _

_The Senator was in a tough spot. He was a Democrat, and Rod a Republican. On the other hand, the Calloway name carried a lot of weight in Connecticut and New England, and he recognized that he would be foolish not to vote in favor of appointment. He could get away with voting with the Republicans if he could adequately support that decision. The endorsement of a moderate Congresswomen, who was also a former classmate, would provide him with the cover he sought._

_She hadn't disappointed him. Rod may have decided he didn't want a relationship with her, but she had an obligation to be honest. The truth was that the man she'd known would make an excellent appellate judge. He was smart, hard working, independent, and a man of honor and integrity._

_Mac checked her calendar on the computer then called her chief of staff and requested he move the meetings with staff that had been scheduled for the remainder of the morning. She grabbed her coat and walked quickly to the other side of the Capitol wondering what he would be like after thirteen years. She reached the committee room as the Chairman was gaveling the room to order. She strolled briskly to the side of the room and then up towards the front where she could see him. He wouldn't be looking around so she felt safe that her presence would remain undetected._

"_Judge Calloway," the Chairman said, "welcome to the Judiciary Committee. We will have you stand and take the oath, and then proceed with questioning by the committee members, alternating between Republicans and Democrats. It's impossible to predict how long this process will take. We appreciate your patience."_

"_I'm at your mercy, Senator," Rod quipped good-naturedly in return._

_When he stood and swore that the testimony he would give before the committee was the truth, Mac got a clear look at his profile. Physically, he had not changed. She felt her breath catch. He remained the most attractive man she'd ever known. Despite the way it ended between them, she found herself listening with a keen ear as the hearing proceeded:_

"_As the Chairman of this committee it is my prerogative to go first. Would you start by briefly telling us about your history?"_

"_Personal or professional?" Rod asked with a smile, knowing the Chairman was an ally._

"_Both, if you don't mind."_

"_Certainly. I was born and raised in Connecticut, but I've resided in Atlanta, Georgia for several years. My parents are Will and Elizabeth Calloway, and I have younger twin sisters and a younger brother. I married Lauren Murphy in September of 1995, and our son and daughter, Cooper and Rebecca, were born in May of 1996. My wife died of cancer five years ago. The twins are currently in the sixth grade. They are looking forward to the end of the school year, and to turning twelve exactly a month from today."_

"_I graduated from Yale University and was a member of the baseball team. After a three-year detour courtesy of the United States Army…."_

"_Including combat service during the Gulf War of 1991," the Chairman interjected._

"_Yes, sir," Rod acknowledged. "After my discharge, I returned to Yale for law school, working with the law journal my last two years."_

"_Serving as Editor in Chief during your third year, I believe," the Chairman again interrupted._

_Rod nodded. "After graduation, I worked in the United States Attorney's office in Hartford and Atlanta for five years until December of 2002. In November of 2003, I joined the Atlanta firm of King & Spalding and worked there until two years ago when I was appointed as a state superior court judge."_

"_Thank you," the Chairman stated. "I noticed that you were unemployed for approximately a year."_

"_My wife was diagnosed with brain cancer in 2000. Although the initial prognosis was favorable, by late 2002, we knew it was terminal," he said with an audible sigh. He was fighting for emotional control. "I left my job as Assistant U.S. Attorney to be with her and our children. After her death the following spring, I remained at home for six months to help the twins adjust to our new reality. I enjoyed being a lawyer, and I love being a judge. However, my family is…."_

"Madam President?"

Mac looked up. The elevator door was open on the second floor of the Residence. "Thank you," she told the agent as she stepped out into the hall. "Good night."

"Good night, Ma'am."

She walked into her bedroom, stripped off her clothes, and stepped into the shower, his words echoing in her brain: _"My family is my first priority, and always will be."_ She let the hot water run over her. She couldn't say she'd been surprised by his words because she'd heard a similar refrain from him when they'd been dating.

She recalled their last night together when they'd talked seriously about marriage and children. They'd just spent an incredible weekend together, and with their families. As they talked about their future, she'd voiced concerns about her career and whether he would expect her to stay home like their mothers had done once they had children. Without hesitation he'd replied, _"It's your choice. What I want is for you to be happy. What I want is for us to be partners, and to make each other and our family a priority."_

He'd kept that promise. Only he'd kept it with Lauren and not her. And it was her fault. He'd devoted himself to his wife and to their children. Devotion and love he would have given to her and their children had she only listened and believed. Instead she felt only emptiness.

She'd read about how lonely the presidency could be. Her parents—even her father—had repeatedly tried to tell her as much. She hadn't understood until recently. She loved her job, and thought she'd had it all. She closed her eyes until the tears she couldn't control were gone.

Her mother maintained it wasn't too late. Was she right? Was it up to her? She turned off the water with resolve. She couldn't continue this way. Living in the past, in a personal hell of regret and remorse. A place she'd chosen for herself with the help of a "good friend."


	12. Lightning Strikes Twice

**12. Lightning Strikes Twice  
Saturday, March 5, 2016**

As Mac checked herself in the bathroom mirror for the hundredth time, the telephone rang. She froze momentarily then quickly moved to the nightstand and picked it up. "Yes?" she said with breathless anticipation, hoping and fearing this was the call she'd been anxiously awaiting.

"_Madam President, they've arrived."_

"Thank you." With a deep breath she placed the phone back in its cradle. She returned to her bathroom and inspected herself one last time. She was wearing faded designer jeans and a T-shirt hoping to look as un-presidential as possible. She put on a fresh coat of lip-gloss, and wryly told her reflection, "This is as good as it gets."

She quickly walked down the stairs to the ground floor, turned right through the Palm Room and out onto the West Colonnade. Instead of turning the corner and going directly to her office, she entered the West Wing through the northeast door and slowed her pace. Casually she greeted the agent manning the desk at the end of the hall and asked, "Have you seen Cooper?"

"Yes, ma'am. He's in the office area, I believe."

"Thank you."

XXXXXXXXXX

She walked down the hall to the office area that sits between the Oval Office and the Cabinet Room, where Cooper and her personal secretary worked. It was empty. But when she glanced into her office through the open doorway, she saw him standing to the side of her desk studying the painting _The Avenue in the Rain_, hands in his pockets. He was wearing tan chinos and a light blue long-sleeved golf shirt. She smiled. She'd always been crazy about him in blue. Silently she shut the door behind her.

Suddenly she felt ill prepared for the impact of the moment. Her composure fled. Her heart beat twice its normal rate, and she couldn't breathe. All she could do was stare. Nobody had ever physically or emotionally affected her like he did. In an instant everything she'd ever felt for him came rushing back, along with the recognition that she loved him. She always had, and likely always would. She was terrified.

Sensing that someone was watching him, Rod turned around and unexpectedly came face to face with Mackenzie. She was looking at him with the same intelligent, expressive dark eyes he fell in love with all those years ago. He was astounded. She wasn't supposed to be here. He had only allowed Cooper to show him around because she was away. He felt the air leave his lungs as if he'd been sucker punched. He couldn't speak. He couldn't look away.

Time seemed suspended as they gazed intently at one another. Finally they breathlessly spoke at the same time,

"Roderic..."

"Mackenzie..."

Before either could speak further Cooper entered the room from the opposite hallway. He was surprised to see his boss and to feel the palpable tension in the air. He looked at his Dad and found his eyes fixated on the President. He appeared both mournful and happy. He turned to his boss. She was looking at his father in the same way. Neither of them had any idea he was there. "Madam President," he interrupted, announcing his presence, "I thought you were at Camp David."

Hearing the familiar voice, Rod momentarily looked at Cooper before returning his attention back to her.

Mac, on the other hand, moved further into the room and, without taking her eyes off his father, answered sedately, "I came back early to get some work done."

Rod smiled briefly before panic hit. Unsure of what to do or say, he took a few steps towards her. "Sorry for the intrusion. I'll get out of your way. I'm sure you've got a lot to do." He glanced at Cooper. "Son, call me when you're finished here. I think I'll take a walk on The Mall."

"Okay," Cooper said as his father moved towards the other door.

Her heart fell as she watched him leave her office, back turned. He was walking away from her again. _Did he truly feel nothing? No connection between them?_ She thought by the way he'd been looking at her that he, too, must be feeling at least a little of what she felt. Maybe she was fooling herself. Maybe he didn't care. Or maybe there was someone else. She took a deep breath. She had to know. They needed to talk. She just didn't expect it to be this hard.

However, she couldn't let him leave without a fight. She wouldn't make that mistake again. Regardless of how it all turned out, if she didn't stop him, she would again regret it the rest of her life; and she knew now that she'd much rather live with disappointment—or hurt—than with regret. She pursed her lips in resolve and clinched her fist to give her courage. She was about to speak when he turned around and again fixed his eyes to hers.

"You look wonderful," he said huskily. "I'd say being the leader of the free world agrees with you." As he turned away, he caught a hint of a blush in her cheeks and, as in the past, its affect on him was deep and powerful. Momentarily he reconsidered his decision to leave. But he couldn't stay. Not with the way she made him feel—the way she'd always made him feel.

As he opened the door he heard her distinctive voice say clearly, _"Bring me men to match my mountains, Bring me men to match my plains..."_

With a sharp intake of breath, he stopped and closed his eyes. _She'd remembered his favorite poem_. He felt that all too familiar ache tug at his soul. He shut the door and slowly turned to face her. Something in her countenance made him reconsider his earlier decision. He quietly but unequivocally replied, _"Men with empires in their purpose, And new eras in their brains."_

"Hey..." she said with a smile, recalling their old form of greeting.

"Hey..." he answered back with an awkward grin of his own.

Cooper, meanwhile, recognizing that something significant was happening, quietly slipped out the other door.

Neither his boss nor his father realized that he'd gone. In fact, they'd forgotten he'd ever been there.

"Don't go," she pleaded with him.

"Mackenzie," he said with a shake of his head, "I don't..."

"Please stay," she cut him off. "And if you want to take a walk, do it here–with me–instead. I'd join you out on The Mall but…"

"What about your work?" he stammered. "You must have a lot to do if you came back early."

"What work?" She moved to the outside door, which led to the Rose Garden and ultimately to the South Lawn. As she opened it, she said, "It's a beautiful spring day. So are you coming, Judge Calloway? Or do I have to issue an Executive Order?"

His heart skipped a beat when he saw the twinkle in her eyes and heard the gentle tease in her voice. She'd always had the power of a siren over him. And nearly twenty-two years, he realized, hadn't altered that simple truth. "Yes, Madam President," he responded with a smug look and a hint of a drawl he'd picked up from years of living in Georgia. "Only because it's what I want. You have no authority over me," he playfully reminded her as he joined her by the door. "Separation of powers, you know. And I–unlike you–have a lifetime appointment in my job."

"Yes, you do, Your Honor. You most certainly do," she acknowledged aloud–while only silently acknowledging the lifetime appointment he held in her heart.

XXXXXXXXXX

When they stepped outside, she turned to the agent standing post at the door, "Jeffrey, this is federal court of appeals judge, Rod Calloway. He's Cooper's father and an old friend."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied as he stuck out his hand. Though their coloring was different, the family connection between father and son was obvious. "Jeffrey Rivers. It's nice to meet you, sir."

"Thank you," Rod answered shaking his hand. "We missed you out on The Ellipse this morning. Thank you for being so kind to my son and including him in your games."

"No problem, sir. He's a good player and a great kid."

Rod nodded.

"We're going for a walk," Mac said. "Would you please ask everyone to give us a little space." She looked again at Rod. "We've got some catching up to do."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll take care of it."

"Thank you, Jeffrey." She began to walk down the path leading to the driveway, which encircles the upper portion of the South Lawn.

Rod followed her, amused at seeing her in "President Mode" for the first time in person. He remembered what Michael Allen had told him in private all those years ago: _She's destined for greatness. She doesn't know it, but I do._ Her father had been right—not that he had ever doubted the truth in the Admiral's assertion. He had tremendous respect for Kate and Michael Allen. It was a tragedy Michael had died before he could see her fulfill that destiny.

Ten feet down the path Mac stopped and turned around. Taking a few steps back towards her office, she said authoritatively, "Jeffrey, with the exception of the military duty officer, would you have somebody clear out the West Wing with instructions that nobody–including the Chief of Staff–is to work this weekend. In fact, short of an alien invasion or nuclear war I don't want to see anybody at their desks until Monday morning."

"Yes, ma'am," he said with an uncharacteristic smile.

She nodded and walked back down the little hill to where Rod was waiting for her. He was chuckling with a familiar smirk on his very handsome, still boyish face. "What?" she asked inquisitively as she moved to where he stood.

"Nothing," he told her putting his hands in his pockets. "I was thinking–enjoying really–how easily and naturally this whole thing is for you." She hardly looked like someone with the weight of the world on her shoulders. Rather she appeared not to have a care in the world; and she was more beautiful than ever.

"I practice in the mirror," she responded dryly.

"Nice try," he said lightly. Then his voice turned quietly sober. "You were born to this, Mackenzie."

"Thank you," she answered softly, meeting his gaze. He'd always been so gracious in his praise. It occurred to her that except for her mother occasionally, nobody but Rod had ever called her by her given name. And these days, she recognized wryly, nobody but her mom called her anything other than "Madam President" or "Ma'am." She missed being "Mac," almost as much as she missed being "Mackenzie." Hearing her name roll so easily off his tongue, made her feel like a woman. He'd always had that affect on her. And that, was what she missed most of all.


	13. I Don't Know What to Say

**13. I Don't Know What to Say**

"Would you like a tour while we're out here?" Mac asked.

Rod nodded. "I hear you're quite the White House historian."

"I've picked up a few details along the way," she replied as they continued down the path to the circular driveway. "For instance, the outdoor swimming pool, built by Gerald Ford, is to the right behind the trees."

"Do you use it?" he inquired casually, remembering how she'd overcome her fear of water as a teenager by forcing herself to swim every day.

"Not as much as I'd like or should," she admitted as they reached the driveway and began to walk down the west side. "At least I get to row once a week or so when the weather is good."

"I'm surprised the Service lets you do it," he told her.

"I don't give them a choice."

He laughed. "I should have known." An awkward silence fell over them and his eyes drifted to the narrow rubberized track that hugs the inside of the driveway. "Do you still run?"

"Three or four days a week. Smartest thing Clinton ever did was to have the track installed. It's much kinder on the joints."

"It's not easy getting old, is it?" he teased.

"Speak for yourself, Your Honor. I have no intention of getting old."

He deliberately looked her over. "I can believe it."

"You look pretty good yourself," she replied with a smile as their eyes met.

He looked away first. "The yard is bigger with more vegetation than I imagined."

"I had those same thoughts initially. It's beautiful though, and restful. I come out here whenever possible."

He could understand that sentiment. Everywhere she went there was an entourage of aides and guards. Privacy and autonomy would be difficult, if not impossible, to find. "Do you like being President?"

"Very much," she conceded. "Ironic, isn't it? You became the judge and…"

"You the politician?" he finished.

She nodded. "Why didn't you run for office? You were always so certain that was what you wanted to do. What changed your mind?" Cooper's love of history and politics had obviously come from him.

"I had decided to run for Connecticut Attorney General when Lauren got sick," he said with a small sigh. Those days seemed like an eternity ago. "Afterwards I had Cooper and Rebecca to think about. They needed security and stability. Needed to know I'd be home at the end of the day, on the sidelines or in the stands at their ballgames, and in the audience at their school programs. Besides from a legal policy standpoint being an appellate judge is not all that different, only my focus is on…."

"Interpretation rather than implementation?"

"Exactly."

"Why did you move to Atlanta?" she asked. She'd meant to ask Cooper, but it had slipped her mind.

"Because that was home for Lauren," he replied. "Wonderful as my family is, when she was diagnosed with cancer it was important for her to have that additional support."

"I can only imagine how difficult that time must have been."

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "It's horrendous to watch someone you love be ravaged by disease. But then you understand that, don't you? I'm very sorry about your father. You must feel his loss every day—especially now."

"I do." She stopped and reached out to him.

Feeling her touch he, too, stopped and turned to her.

"Thank you for the note you wrote Mom. It was gracious of you, and it meant so much to her." She wanted to thank him for her necklace but it wasn't the right time.

He nodded. "How is she?"

"Grieving. But overall she's fine," Mac told him. "She hates the pretension of the title 'First Mother' and loves the perks that go along with it."

"I can imagine," he said grinning as they again began walking down the driveway.

"Why did you stay in Atlanta after Lauren's death? Didn't you want to be back home where your family could help you?"

"Yes. But it wasn't what was best for the twins," he told her. "Atlanta was home for them; and they needed life to change as little as possible. I could ensure they were close to my parents and siblings. But if I took them away it would have been virtually impossible for them to stay close to their other grandparents and extended family. They needed that connection. Needed that reminder of their mother."

"You've sacrificed a lot."

"No," he said with a shake of the head. "They're everything to me. They give me far more than I could ever give them. I made choices, that's all."

"Choices not many men would make," she pointed out as they reached the bottom of the driveway. "Particularly when the easy thing would have been to move back to Connecticut and continue with your career as planned." Doing the "right thing" had been ingrained so deeply in his soul that he didn't always recognize it. He simply knew of no other way to live. She only wished she'd understood that all those years ago, instead of being paralyzed by fear.

"Looks like the basketball court is in need of serious repair," he said deflecting the conversation away from himself. He looked closer. "Are they using it as storage for heavy equipment?" he asked in disbelief as they continued to the left.

"Appears that way, doesn't it?" Mac said with a smile. Cooper had immediately noticed that, too. "We'll have to see what we can do about fixing it. The tennis court is down here, too.

"Yeah?"

"I hear you play a mean game, Your Honor. Care to do battle sometime?"

"Are you issuing a challenge?" he teased back. "I warn you, the judicial branch is more than capable of holding its own, Madam President."

"That's what I'm counting on," she replied, only this time she broke eye contact first.

XXXXXXXXXX

She diverted them off the circular driveway and onto a narrow stone path, which led into an area next to the tennis court that was enclosed by trees and shrubs. "This is the Children's Garden, created by Lady Bird Johnson," she told him. "Over there are handprints belonging to different presidential children and grandchildren."

He walked over and studied the sets of handprints cemented into a number of the stones.

"Roderic…"

He turned and found her gazing at him intently, desire burning in her eyes. Involuntarily his breath became uneven.

"Please tell me you're feeling what I'm feeling?" she pleaded.

"The need to kiss you?" he said hoarsely.

"Yes," she replied, her voice thick with emotion.

She continued to look at him and he couldn't seem to take his eyes off her either. His control was slipping and he felt like he was fighting the pull of a magnetic pole. "Mackenzie, what are we doing?" he asked in desperation. He began to pace the garden, running one hand through his hair. Raising his arms and turning back towards her, he said, "I shouldn't even be calling you that…."

She went to him. "It's who I am when we're together. It would be ridiculous for there to be anything else between us."

"Us?" he repeated with a rueful smirk. "There is no 'us,' remember? You should. You're the one who made that choice."

"But there could be," she suggested sedately. "Unless there's somebody else."

"There's not," he said with a heavy sigh. But he hated the admission. With renewed resolve he said, "I understand that you've managed to acquire joint custody of my son. But…."

"And you resent it?" she gently interrupted.

"Resent it?" he asked with a double take. "Why would I resent it?"

"I don't know," she said with a shrug. "I know it came as a complete shock. After what happened between us, maybe you feel betrayed or…."

"Mac," he interjected decisively, "I've always wanted and have encouraged both my kids to have close, positive relationships with strong, intelligent women, but particularly Cooper. How could you think otherwise?" He shook his head. "You know, I thought for a minute that maybe…." He stopped mid-sentence and took a deep breath trying to rein in his emotions.

After a moment he quietly continued, "You still don't think very much of me, huh? Which was always the problem. If you'll excuse me, Madam President, I'll let you get back to work. Thanks for the walk." He turned and strode down the long path towards the driveway.

Watching his departing back, Mac felt sick. She'd unwittingly done it again. She'd made him feel like he was less than the man he is. "Rod, wait," she called out.

He turned back and stared at her, his expression unreadable.

"I didn't mean it like it sounded," she said sincerely as she moved towards him. "Will you let me explain?"

"Look, I came to support my son," he said defensively, arms folded across his chest. "Not to rehash ancient history, or to talk about things that should have been dealt with years ago. We are who we are. You refused to listen then. Why should I listen now?"

"Because that's the kind of man you are: strong and caring, patient and forgiving."

Rendered speechless, he gaped at her. For more than twenty years he'd lived with the knowledge that she had little trust in him, and no confidence in his character. Now he was supposed to believe otherwise? Eventually he spoke. "You've caught me off guard. I'm not prepared for this—not today. So if you'll excuse me."

"I think you're lying," she said calling his bluff as he began to leave.

He stopped and faced her.

"You can pretend that this meeting wasn't inevitable. You can deny that you've thought about this—about us—every day since Cooper told you about the job. But I know better."

"Mac," he said shaking his head.

"Rod," she insisted, "what we had together was extraordinary and rare."

He scoffed.

"I know. You recognized it long before I did. But I know it now. And you've been on my mind since, oh, about 2:48 p.m. on Wednesday, January 20th when your son walked into my office and changed everything."

Of course, he'd thought about their eventual first meeting. How could he not? However, he never imagined hearing or feeling…. He didn't want…. He couldn't. Not with her. Not anymore. "What do you want from me?" he complained. "A pound of flesh? An admission that I ache to hold you and kiss you? What would it accomplish? What would it change?"

"Will you at least listen?" she pleaded. "Let me explain and apologize."

He raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"I didn't think 'apologize' was in your vocabulary."

"It isn't usually," she said with a twinkle. "But with you it should be."

"Mackenzie," he persisted trying to regain his equilibrium, "it's too late. It doesn't mat…."

"Please?" she implored again, looking intently into his eyes. "It does matter. Give me a chance. Let me explain."

Again they stared at one another until finally he shrugged. "Okay," he sighed.

"Thank you," she told him sincerely. "Will you come back and sit by me?" There were several outdoor sitting areas scattered around the yard. None of them, however, offered the privacy and seclusion of the Children's Garden.

"Yeah," he replied with a small smile.

XXXXXXXXXX

They walked back into the little garden and sat facing each other on a couple of the wrought iron chairs that surround the fishpond. After a minute Mac said, "I had a talk with Mike Stanton a few weeks ago when I was campaigning in Dallas."

"I see."

"Do you hate me?" she asked holding her breath.

It would be simpler to lie, he realized. Lie and walk away. But he couldn't do that to his son, or to her. "No," he replied with a shake of his head. "I got over it a long time ago. I don't live in the past."

"Why didn't you tell me the truth about what was going on? Why didn't you defend yourself?"

"Does it matter? It was two decades ago. We moved on."

"Rod," she persisted, "I spent more than twenty years believing you'd walked out on me, thinking you'd given up on us."

"And you blame me for that?" he said incredulously. "I told you I'd be there when you were ready to listen. I waited for more than three months. You just never came. Never cared enough to want to listen."

"Why didn't you make me listen? You had the power."

"What good does rehashing all this accomplish?"

"Please? I need to know."

He stood and paced around the garden, fighting with his emotions.

Mac watched him struggle and fell deeper in love because of the honor in his restraint.

After a few minutes he returned to her. "You really want to do this? Because we don't have to, you know. We can agree to put it behind us, accept we were young and that mistakes were made."

"We have to," she told him with quiet determination. They couldn't move on until they addressed the hurt and heartache that had resulted from the mistakes and misperceptions. "Why didn't you stay and fight it out?"

He sighed. She was a pit bull when something was on her mind. Fine. He had things to say, too. "You want to know why? Okay, I'll tell you why. You came in with symbolic guns blazing, ready to defend him with your life and…."

"Mike?"

"Wasn't he what it was all about? He was obviously more important to you."

"It wasn't like that," she insisted. "Mike and I…."

He cut her off. "You accused me of assaulting him because you wouldn't have sex with me. After everything we'd shared, do you have any idea what that felt like? To know how little you thought of me?"

"I'm more sorry for those words than anything else," she said quietly. "I wasn't aware of what I was saying. Nobody could have been more patient or loving than you'd been with me. I was confused and scared."

"Of me?"

"Of myself."

"When you said what you did, I finally realized that if that was how you felt, there was nothing left for us. Love without trust is weak and useless, and certainly no basis for a strong, lasting relationship. So what was the point?"

"I was a fool. And it was the biggest mistake of my life. I don't want to be like that anymore. Especially with you."

"Did you just?" he shook his head in disbelief. "You can't…. Mackenzie, are you saying? Suggesting?"

"Yes."

The air between them was thick with emotion and desire. Physically he was feeling what he hadn't felt in thirteen years. He couldn't do this—not again. He had to get out. "Thank you for apologizing," he said. "But this is not a good idea. This isn't what I want."

Mac didn't believe him. "You said there was nobody else, so is it guilt? Do you feel like you're betraying Lauren?"

"No," he said decisively, then reconsidered. "I don't think so. She's been gone a lot longer than we had together. I've just never thought about it."

"Then is it the twins?" she questioned kindly. "Because Cooper's a wonderful, intelligent, mature young man. I can only assume that Rebecca is the same."

"Cooper!" he said standing. "I need to call him. How could I forget him like that? He must be confused."

"You don't think he's figured it out?" she asked gently looking up at him.

"I haven't figured it out so how can I expect him to?" He removed his phone from his pocket. "Excuse me, Madam President."

XXXXXXXXXX

He left the garden area hitting the speed dial on his cell phone as he walked. "Cooper?"

"_Hey, Dad."_

"Son, I'm sorry."

"_For what?"_

"For walking out on you. I don't know what came over me."

"_It's okay. You hadn't seen each other in a long time."_

"Yeah, well, that doesn't excuse…."

"_I'm not a kid. I can recognize chemistry and attraction when I see it."_

"Yeah, it's just," he took a breath. "Well, I don't know. We're not that way. Not anymore."

"_It's no big deal. I'll go back to the hotel and work on a paper that's due next week. I can find someone else for the ball game."_

"No, I want to go with you and to get some dinner, too. But can I get a rain check on this afternoon? We do need to talk."

"_Dad?"_

"Yeah?"

"_She's cool and it's okay if you," he hesitated. He'd never had a conversation like this with his father, and it was a little weird. "Well, if you did want to date her again, I'm okay with it."_

"Thank you. That means a lot. You're sure about this afternoon?"

"_Yeah."_

"Okay. I'll talk to you later. And if you talk with your sister, grandmothers or aunts, please keep this to yourself. I don't want to go ten rounds with them over nothing."

"_Yes, sir."_ Cooper knew all about being ganged up on by the women in the family. _"I love you, Dad."_

"I love you, too."

XXXXXXXXXX

Rod took a deep breath, put away his phone, and walked back into the garden. Mackenzie had her head down, elbows on her knees. She looked vulnerable. Instantly a surge of protectiveness washed over him that was so strong he was tempted to leave. But then she looked up and smiled at him.

"Is he okay?" she asked.

"He's fine," he replied. "He has a paper to write."

"He's been studying and working hard," she told him. "I'm proud of him."

"I am, too. Thanks for the assist with his schooling." He took a seat next to her.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," she assured him.

"Well, I appreciate it."

Their eyes met and the two of them looked at each other without speaking for a time. Small talk was easier than continuing to deal with the emotions of the past. Finally he asked the question he'd always wondered about. "You never married. Why?"

"I don't know." She was uncertain of how much she should say.

"I thought you'd marry Stanton."

"Why would you think that?" she asked in disbelief. "We were never…. I was never interested in him. You knew that," she insisted.

"You defended him, supported him, and after we broke up you were always with him. What else was I supposed to think?"

"I don't know. But never that…. I wanted to be with you."

"How can you say that after you chose him over me?"

"I didn't choose him," she said matching his indignant tone.

"You told me we were finished. You didn't want to hear anything I had to say. So don't sit here and rewrite history by telling me that you weren't the one who broke up with me. Don't pretend now that you didn't choose him—that he wasn't more important to you."

"Is that what you thought?"

"What else was there?"

"I didn't understand what was going on and every time I asked, you wouldn't say. I didn't know anything about what he'd done. He didn't say anything when I asked him. I realize now you were protecting me. But at the time…."

"That's precisely the point. What was I supposed to say before? 'Your friend's being mean to me.' I don't think so. Afterwards, I tried. You could have listened. You didn't. It was painfully obvious that you had no faith in me. How could you and say what you did?"

"Rod…."

"Mackenzie, that wasn't Stanton. That was you. I was devastated. I gave you everything I had and still it wasn't enough for you to give me even the benefit of the doubt. I realized at that point, I had nothing left to give. It was up to you to want what I wanted."

"I was devastated, too," she said quietly meeting his eyes. "I loved you and didn't understand…."

"Now she says the words," he said with mocking derision.

"I was a scared fool," she admitted, ignoring his sarcasm. "I screwed up the best thing in my life: us. And now when I think of the years—the life—we could have had together, I regret it every day."

Her words took all the wind out of his anger and frustration. Stunned, he stared at her intently. He was surprised he could still read her. He was touched by the combination of strength and vulnerability he found in her face. He moved his chair closer and put a hand on her knee. "I'm sorry," he told her tenderly. "Believe it or not, this is not what I wanted for you."

"I know," she answered sedately. "It's true nonetheless."

He was torn. He felt her pain and understood well the inevitable regret that accompanies every loss. At the same time, their breakup was meant to be. "Mackenzie, I don't feel that way. I can't. I loved Lauren, and I love my children. How can I regret or resent what happened to us?"

"I understand," she said with a sigh. "But it's different for me. I don't have what you do. Oh, I fooled myself for many years into thinking that my parents, friends and career were enough, that I had it all, that nothing was missing from my life. Then your son walked into my office, and everything I thought I knew fell by the waste side while the hole in my heart—that had always been there—grew to be a mile wide and a fathom deep."

He smiled empathetically. He knew what it was like to sleep alone every night, to come home to an empty house, to have a hole in his heart the size of Texas. Thankfully, he'd moved on and had built a new life for himself and the twins. "Why did you hire him? You had to be just as shocked by his appearance."

"You have no idea," she said wryly. "I had absolutely no intention of hiring him. But once I saw his name on that résumé, I had to meet him. Once that happened, it was inevitable. Besides," she shrugged, "he was the most qualified. Both my chief of staff and former aide ranked him as their first choice, and they obviously knew nothing about our history."

"And his name had nothing to do with it?"

"Not his name, but who he is." She looked at him and smiled. "Rod, he is so much like you, I had to hire him. And you know what? He is like you. But he's also just Cooper: A wonderful young man—bright, ambitious, caring, fun loving. From what I know of Rebecca, she sounds just as unique and wonderful. You should be proud of them. And they—or any child—could not ask for a better father."

"Tell me the truth," he asked. "Why haven't you married? You must have had countless opportunities."

She took a deep breath. "It's funny. My mother asked me the same question not too long ago. I suppose I could spout platitudes about not finding the right person, but that's all it would be. For years I mostly buried myself in my work, convinced that I was totally happy and completely satisfied. It was a lie. The truth is that when we were together I was scared to admit my love for you because I was afraid you would ultimately leave me heartbroken like David did."

"So that was his name."

"What do you mean?"

"I knew someone had hurt you deeply."

"You did?" She was surprised. She'd never mentioned him to anyone.

He nodded. "But you would never talk to me, or trust me enough to open up to me."

"It wasn't you," she answered. "It was me. I was afraid of myself, and of being vulnerable. Ironically, it was my fear that caused my heartbreak because I lost you. Ever since, I've subconsciously compared every man to you. Finally I gave up. And then Cooper walked into my life." She laid her hand on his thigh and when their eyes met said, "You have every reason in the world to hate me. But I'm hoping you'll give me—give us—a second chance."

Again he was flabbergasted. He hadn't known what to expect from their first meeting, but in his wildest dreams he could not have anticipated what he was hearing from her. "I don't know what to say," he said eventually. "You've shocked me more than Cooper with his bombshell about working for you."

She laughed. "You don't have to say anything. I wanted you to know I've changed. I'm not afraid anymore. My eyes and heart are open. Most important, I wanted to apologize."

"Okay," he told her. I honestly don't know what else to say."

She looked into his face and saw the surprise and confusion lurking in the hazel eyes she had always adored. She wasn't going to push for anything from him—not yet. Seeing that the sun was beginning to get low in the sky, she checked her watch and stood. "We'd better get you out of here so you can have some time with Cooper."

He checked his own watch as he joined her. "You're right. And you've got work to do."

"No, I don't. That was a pretext. Seeing you was the only urgent matter on my agenda today," she told him coyly as she began to walk out of the garden.

He laughed and then called after her. "Mackenzie…"

She stopped and looked at him.

"I'm glad we talked."

"Me, too," she said returning his smile.

XXXXXXXXXX

They returned to the driveway and continued their journey around the circle back to the Residence. After a few silent minutes, he said, "I am curious about something."

"What?" she asked looking at him.

"You didn't speak with Stanton until recently, and yet you told Cooper when you offered him the job that our breakup was your fault. Why?"

"Lucky guess?" she suggested lightly.

He chuckled and then added, "I'm serious."

"I think that deep down—beneath the pride and the heartache, I must have known the truth all along. Even if I hadn't, it would have been the right thing to do. I would never want to hurt him, or put him in the tough position of having divided loyalties."

"Well, thank you."

She nodded. "Can I ask you a question in return?"

"I don't suppose anybody has the courage to tell the President 'no,'" he teased. "Would be an unpardonable sin."

"You're the one with the contempt power, Your Honor," she replied in kind.

"As you well know, my jurisdiction is limited to the courtroom, Madam President."

"Why did you so readily agree to Cooper taking the job?"

"I hate it, but he's an adult. What choice did I have? And you made sure I remembered that with your comment to him about it being safer than a combat zone."

"I did, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," he agreed with a smile and a nod. "My father took great pleasure in telling me much the same thing."

Mac laughed. She'd always thought highly of his parents.

"Thank you for giving him this opportunity. He's never been happier or more excited about anything."

"Not even baseball?"

"Not even baseball."

"I'm the one who's grateful. He's been a big help. You should have seen him the other night talking with the Japanese Emperor. He's a natural diplomat."

"Yes, he is," Rod agreed. "Good natured, too, which his sister frequently takes full advantage."

"Reminds me of the twins with you," she told him with a smile as they reached the West Colonnade. She hoped to meet young Rebecca Calloway soon. "I'll walk you out," she told him. "Did you drive?"

"No," he said shaking his head, "walked. I'm staying across the street at the Hay-Adams. Cooper's waiting for me there."

Before they entered the West Wing, she stopped and asked, "You fly back tomorrow?"

He nodded. "Late in the afternoon."

"Would you and Cooper consider joining me for lunch after church?"

"Where do you go?"

"St. John's at ten," she answered.

"The church across the street from the hotel?"

She nodded. "You're welcome to come. Cooper's been a few times when we've had to work or travel on a Sunday."

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Mac. I'm not crazy about the idea of landing on the front page of the paper."

"The press aren't allowed inside," she assured him. "Cooper's my personal aide. You are his father and visiting from out of state. That's all."

"Let me talk to Cooper. If he's okay with it, then yeah, we'd be happy to accompany you." He politely kissed her on the cheek. "I can find my way out. I'll call you later. Cooper has the number?"

She chuckled. "Just remember 1111. He knows the rest."

"That's easy enough."

As he walked inside she called out, "Rod…."

He turned around.

"Thanks for listening." When she saw his smile—the same smile she'd loved for so many years, she felt twenty-five again.


	14. To Be or Not to Be

**14. To Be or Not to Be  
Sunday, March 6, 2016**

Rod took a deep breath as he exited the hotel with Cooper. Last night and this morning, for the first time in thirteen years, he'd had to work at focusing his attention on his son. He couldn't recall what he'd had for dinner, and he had no idea whether the Wizards had won or lost the basketball game. That is what she'd done to him.

After Cooper had sacked out, he spent a majority of the night staring out the windows of their corner suite. First at Lafayette Park and the White House, and then across the street at St. John's Episcopal Church, a pale yellow structure with Greek columns in front and a white tower steeple that reminded him of the Old North Church in Boston.

All night his earlier conversation with Mackenzie had played over and over in his head as he tried to make sense of it all. Naturally he'd expected her to be different. But she was so open with him that he wondered if he hadn't dreamed the whole thing. Now he was meeting her at church and for lunch, and he was doing it with his son. His palms felt sweaty, and he fought a constant urge to clear his voice and rid himself of the lump that seemed to have permanently settled in his throat.

Fortunately his son appeared unfazed by the whole thing. He took at face value that they'd resolved their past differences and were friends. His response when asked about church and lunch with Mackenzie had been to say "cool" before he'd launched into what he knew of the church's history—including that it was often called "The President's Church" because every chief executive since James Madison had attended regular or occasional services there.

As they walked Rod noticed that H and 16th Streets, which bordered the church, had been shut down by the Secret Service. There was a small army of agents keeping a vigilant watch, while several others, dressed in fatigues and carrying assault rifles, stood in plain sight on nearby roofs. Many of them greeted Cooper as they passed.

"Does the President walk across the Park?" he asked looking to his right at the White House. Not even with his son did he feel comfortable calling her by name.

Cooper shook his head. "Full Motorcade."

"To go one block?" Rod inquired with widened eyes.

"Crazy, huh?"

"Insane."

He followed Cooper inside the crowded church and up to Pew 54, which was empty except for Agent Rivers who was standing at the end of the row. He'd been slightly surprised when they'd bypassed the metal detector and nobody said a word.

"Morning Cooper," Jeffrey said moving aside to let them in.

"Hi Jeffrey," Cooper replied. "Were you on duty yesterday?"

"I was. But some of us are going to play again this afternoon around 1:30 p.m."

"Great. This is my Dad, Rod."

"We met yesterday," Jeffrey answered with a smile. "Nice to see you again, Judge Calloway."

"You, too."

"Is she on her way?" Cooper asked.

"Just pulling onto West Exec."

Cooper nodded and sat towards the middle of the pew.

Rod sat on his right. He wondered which direction Mac would enter from, both wanting and dreading for her to sit next to him.

"What's wrong, Dad?" Cooper asked a few minutes later.

"Huh?" he said.

"What's wrong? You look freaked out and your fists are clenched like you're wanting to hit someone."

Rod looked at his hands. His knuckles were white. "Nothing. Nothing at all. I was thinking about a tough decision I'm working on," he replied evasively while forcing himself to relax. Gesturing to the bench where they sat, he asked, "Does she always sit?"

"Always. This is the President's Pew. But at least it's the English service today. Last time, she made us attend the Reverend's Spanish one so she could practice with the language."

Rod laughed. Once she set her mind to something, there was no stopping her.

XXXXXXXXXX

A buzz fell over the room. Everyone stood and the Reverend, a nice looking blonde woman who appeared to be about his age, moved towards them. Rod turned his head in the direction of the commotion and saw Mackenzie walking down the center aisle, looking elegant in a stone colored suit with a dark turquoise silk blouse. She was wearing her diamond and pearl necklace. He couldn't take his eyes off her. When she smiled at him, he felt his body physically contract, forcing him to take a subtle, yet deep breath. He chastised himself for the direction his thoughts were taking. _Yes, she's a beautiful woman. She's also the President of the United States, buddy, and you're standing in church_, he silently repeated.

Mac reluctantly tore her gaze from him. She'd dreamed about him all night, and the thoughts currently playing in her brain were most inappropriate for church. "Buenos días, Reverend Aikins," she said in greeting as she forced her attention on the woman walking towards them.

"Buenos días, Madam President," the Reverend replied accepting her hand. "How are you?"

"Muy bien." Mac smiled and turned to Rod. "Hey," she said softly.

"Good morning," he answered with a slight dip of his head.

"Hannah," Mac said louder than necessary, "you know my aide, Cooper. Let me introduce you to his father, Judge Rod Calloway of the Eleventh Circuit Court of Appeals, who is visiting from Atlanta to judge a moot court competition at Georgetown."

"It's a pleasure," she told him with a smile. She had noticed the furtive looks that had passed between the President and the Judge, and the almost electric current that seemed to flow between them. He was tall and handsome with kind, intelligent eyes. She hoped her instincts were correct because the President, whom she had developed a great affection for the past year, both needed and deserved someone like him in her life. "Welcome to St. John's, Judge Calloway."

"Thank you, Reverend. It's an honor to be here," he replied with a warm sincerity. He liked her instantly.

"If you'll excuse me," she said with a wink. "I'd best get started while we've got everyone's attention."

As she returned to the front of the church, Mac leaned across Rod and said, "Morning, Cooper."

"Morning, ma'am." He moved to the middle of the pew and the three of them sat down.

Rod didn't dare speak. He was too aware of her presence next to him: her warmth, her scent, everything. It was difficult enough to maintain normal respiration in silence without further complicating matters by attempting to introduce words. Why did she continue to affect him? So what if they dated years ago? So what if he had loved her years ago? Those days were long gone. He'd moved on, met Lauren, and had built a life with her.

It was probably just the newness of the whole thing—the fact that they were seeing each other and speaking to each other after years of silence and misunderstandings. That must be it, he assured himself. Once they got reacquainted and adjusted to each other, it would undoubtedly go away. Besides, he wouldn't be seeing very much of her.

Despite the time and place, Mac had to fight the urge to curl up next to him. She'd never known greater peace than when enclosed in his strong, loving arms. She missed it. She hadn't realized how much until she'd seen him. If only she'd had the faith to rely on that sense of wellbeing all those years ago. She longed for a second chance with him: A chance to love him, and be loved by him. How it should have been between them all along.

She couldn't believe how forward she'd been with him. She'd never done anything remotely like that… ever. She certainly hadn't planned it that way. But how could she not? It's not like they were strangers. In spite of the intervening years caused by the misperceptions and misunderstandings, they knew each other well.

The choice yesterday truly had been one of disappointment or regret. She had one chance at it. He was worth it. They were worth it. Besides, although she may have surprised him, he hadn't turned her down or slammed the door on the possibility. She'd seen the same desire in his eyes that she felt every time she looked at him. That had to count for something, didn't it?

A few minutes into the service, she leaned towards him and whispered, "Thanks for coming this morning. Church is no fun alone."

He turned his head and whispered back, "You're welcome. But Mackenzie, you're never alone—not anymore. You've got your own army… and navy…. and"

Quickly smothering a giggle, she subtly aimed an elbow at his ribs.

"Madam President, we are in church. Control yourself."

"You, too, Judge," she said before putting on a serious face. She spent the rest of the time making occasional eye contact with him, relieved that he appeared to be having equal difficulty in concentrating on the sermon. Fortunately Cooper was leaning forwards with his head down and his forearms resting on his thighs in the manner adopted by most teenage boys when forced to endure lengthy religious meetings.

As the Reverend concluded her remarks, Mac again turned to him. "I'm going to be asked to answer a few questions when we get outside. It will take a few minutes. Do you want to wait for me, or change into casual clothes and walk over to the Residence?"

"We'll change and meet you there," he answered without hesitation.

After the benediction, Mac stood. She nodded thanks to Reverend Aikins, motioned for Cooper and Rod to follow her, and turned to leave while the rest of the congregation remained seated.

When they got outside, Mac was immediately bombarded by several members of the White House press corps who, like predators, had been anxiously awaiting the arrival of their prey.

Instead of immediately walking back to the hotel, Rod paused a moment to watch her in action. Although he had expected the presence of the media, the magnitude of it amazed him. "Is it always like this?"

"Always," Cooper told him. "If not worse."

Rod raised an eyebrow.

Mac gave them ten minutes. Before she got into the car, however, she caught sight of Rod and Cooper standing off to the side. She was surprised but pleased that they had stayed. She smiled at them and then ducked into the limousine.

As she pulled away, Rod made a mental note of her motorcade. He was stunned by the complexity of it: several motorcycles, multiple police cars, more than a half dozen Suburbans, two limousines, and an ambulance. The only thing more absurd was the reality that she was traveling a distance of only one block.

XXXXXXXXXX

"This is the Queen's Bedroom," Cooper said as they walked into the guest suite across the hall from the Lincoln Bedroom on the east end of the Residence's second floor. He knew his father and boss had spent most of yesterday afternoon talking but he was surprised that his Dad had seen nothing of the house.

"It's named that in honor of all the royalty that have stayed here over the centuries," Mac added. "It's also where I put my mother when she's in town."

Rod smiled in response and looked around the room. The last hour had been an education as she and Cooper regaled him with facts and stories about different rooms in the Residence. His son was most fascinated by the Map Room, a small room to the west of the Diplomatic Reception Room that Roosevelt had used as a situation room during World War II. It was still treated as a secure room and was therefore, not open to the public. His favorite room so far, however, was the Diplomatic Reception Room, with its oval shape, bright colors and historical murals that covered the walls.

"Heads of State generally don't stay here anymore," Cooper told him. "They stay across the street at Blair House. But Churchill frequently used this room during the War when he was over."

"I didn't know that," Mac said turning her attention from father to son. In fact, she'd learned a lot on this morning's tour.

"It's in the books you gave me," Cooper replied.

"What books?" Rod asked.

"An history of the White House. It's got awesome stuff in it. Some of the stories are really funny, like Taft getting stuck in the bath tub."

"It's put out by the Historical Association," Mac clarified. "I thought he'd enjoy it and that it would be helpful when he has to give tours." She turned again to Cooper. "I can't believe you've read it already. I've had it sitting by my bed for more than six months and I'm only about a half way through the first volume."

Cooper pretended to think. "Hmm…. You're the President of the United States and I carry your coat. I'm not sure, but that could be the reason."

Rod felt himself flush at the teasing way his son spoke to her. But when he looked at Mackenzie, prepared to apologize, he saw she was genuinely enjoying their exchange.

"Don't forget that you're also supposed to hold my door," she threw back.

"And remember the breath mints, I know, Madam President," Cooper added in retort.

She laughed. "Definitely can't forget those," she agreed. "But how about we leave the 'ma'am' and 'Madam President' stuff for the West Wing. Today I'm Mac or Mackenzie."

"Yes, boss," he said with a smile.

Rod knew they worked well together, however, the easy way they interacted with each other caught him off guard. It was as if they'd known each other for years rather than weeks. Cooper related to her like he did with Syd, Alex or Kim. It was apparent that she enjoyed his company. She treated him as if….

"Who's hungry?" Mac asked.

Rod snapped out of his reverie.

"It's about time," Cooper said. "I'm starved. I thought that's why we were here, to eat."

"Like father like son, I see," Mac said to Rod.

He shrugged. "It's a male thing."

"Or a Calloway thing," she suggested with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Could be that, too, I suppose," he acknowledged.

XXXXXXXXXX

Twenty minutes later Mac looked at Rod and Cooper, and then down at her own mostly empty plate. Apparently Cooper wasn't the only one who had been "starved," although he was rapidly working his way through a second helping of everything.

"I was surprised when Cooper told me that your mother had gone to medical school," she said to Rod.

"It shocked us at first, too," he replied. "Dad encouraged her to do it and she loves it."

"What did she specialize in?"

"Family practice. Decided that's where she could do the most good. Volunteers at a low income clinic a few days a week, and she and Dad spend a couple of months a year in Africa working to help people there. In fact, they are currently in Uganda."

"That's terrific. They've always loved that Continent, haven't they? And have done so much good, I'm sure." They'd been in Africa when he'd broken his arm and had almost died. A near tragedy that had turned into a very special time in her life because he'd told her he loved her for the first time. If she'd only known the cause of his "accident." If only she'd been smart enough to put two and two together. Rod, Cooper, and Mike. All of them had been uncharacteristically vague and evasive about what had happened to him. But she'd been so consumed by her own fears that she'd failed to see what was staring her in the face.

He nodded.

"When are they coming home, Dad?" Cooper asked.

"The end of the month. Remember Papa's birthday is the 19th. Don't forget to at least email him."

"I won't."

"How is everybody else? The twins? Christopher?"

"Good. Sydney lives in Greenwich and works freelance as a fashion designer. She and John have four children, including a set of twins. Christopher is unmarried. He and Alex have taken over daily operations at the bank while Dad remains Chairman of the Board. Alex and Matt have a precocious six year old daughter, and she's expecting."

"Aunt Alex is pregnant?" Cooper asked in astonishment. "When did that happen?"

Rod and Mac laughed.

"You know what I mean," he protested with a red face.

"Sorry," Rod told him, "she wanted to wait to tell everyone. I must have forgot to tell you. She's due in August."

"That is so cool! Is everything okay?"

Rod nodded and told Mackenzie. "She's had several first trimester miscarriages over the past few years, so the whole family is thrilled."

"I hope it's a boy," Cooper interjected. "Jack needs someone to play with," he insisted.

"Jack is Syd's two year old," Rod clarified. "The twins are girls and also six, so he's outnumbered."

"They keep making him play dolls with them," Cooper said with a shake of his head.

Mac laughed.

"You played with your share of dolls and you turned out okay," Rod pointed out.

"Only under duress," he adamantly maintained. "Becca was bigger than I was back then and always had to get her way. Otherwise she would cry or get mad. Trust me, I wanted no part of that…. It just got me in trouble." He did not like this conversation. He looked at his watch: 1:30 p.m. _Finally!_ He silently exclaimed.

"Son, have you got somewhere else you'd rather be?" Rod asked with a knowing grin.

"Jeffrey and some of the guys are playing ball this afternoon," he said somewhat sheepishly.

Mac and Rod caught each other's eye and smiled in agreement.

"Score a touchdown for me," Mac told him.

"It's okay if I go?"

Rod nodded.

"Thanks," Cooper said standing.

As he left the room, Rod called out, "I have to leave for the airport a few minutes before three. I'll leave your bags with the bellman. Do you need any money for a cab?"

He'd momentarily forgotten his father was returning to Atlanta this afternoon. He walked back towards the table. "No, I'm okay. Thanks, Dad. The weekend was great. Have a safe flight."

"I love you," Rod told him.

"Me, too," Cooper said with a smile.

Mac watched their exchange with pleasure. One of the qualities she most admired in the Calloway men—from Will down to Cooper—was their willingness to express love and affection, even with each other.

"Bye, boss. Thanks for lunch."

"You're welcome," Mac replied. "See you in the morning."

"Yes ma'am," he answered with a mock salute and a slight bow.

After he left, Rod and Mac looked at each other and laughed.

"I hope he doesn't cross any lines of familiarity with you," Rod told her. "If he does, I want to know about it so I can have a talk with him."

"He doesn't," she said with a shake of her head. "You've taught him well. He's very professional and knows the boundaries. Even when the work hats are off, he's always respectful."

"Good," he said relieved. "It's just that sometimes he's nineteen going on forty-nine, and other times he acts more like he's…"

"Ten?" she suggested.

"Precisely."

"You were exactly the same," she told him.

"I was?"

"Uh huh," she nodded. "It was one of the things I loved most about you. And from some of the stories Cooper has told, that obviously hasn't changed—not completely anyway."

"Boys will be boys," he said with a sheepish grin, which mirrored that of his son.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," she replied catching his eye, and seeing a spark there before he looked down at his plate. "Did you get enough to eat?" she asked.

"Thank you," he answered looking up again. "It was delicious. My compliments to the Chef."

"I'll make sure he gets them," she said with a grin.

"Still no Martha Stewart, huh?"

"Not even close," she acknowledged unembarrassed. "Can you stick around awhile longer?"

He looked at his watch. "Another hour."

"Good. Why don't we go upstairs to the Solarium? It's casual, comfortable and has a great view."

"I'd like that," he agreed. He stood and walked to the other side of the table and held her chair.

"Thank you," she smiled at him.

"You're welcome."

XXXXXXXXXX

They walked upstairs in silence, each caught up in their individual thoughts. Mac opened the doors and they walked out on the roof. "Teddy Roosevelt's boys used to play pirate ship up here," she told him. "And Lincoln's boys painted logs to look like canons, which they would pretend to shoot across the river at the Confederates."

He smiled. "I'd say you've picked up more than 'a few details,'" he told her. "My son swears you know everything. He's convinced you're the smartest person in the world… and of course, he's right."

Her intelligence had always been acknowledged—even by her critics and detractors. She'd never been one for false modesty, nor could she take credit for what God had given her, so usually she simply ignored such compliments. However, hearing the words from him meant everything to her. "Thank you," she said quietly before turning her attention to the view which stretched before them.

Leaning against the railing they could see the Washington Monument and Jefferson Memorial. They could also see where Cooper and the others were playing football on the Ellipse, a big patch of grass outside the iron fence that was technically part of the White House grounds.

Rod noticed that within seconds it seemed, agents carrying heavy weaponry appeared on the roofs of the West Wing, the Department of the Treasury next door, and the Commerce Department across the street. In addition, agents on the ground very quickly scooted tourists back from the southern fence line. She was a prisoner, he suddenly realized. It was a gilded cage to be certain. But she was still very much a captive.

They watched the game for a few minutes before Mac said, "Cooper told me you made him a catcher because he's bossy and likes to talk, and so you could practice your pitching."

Rod chuckled. "That's what I wanted him to believe—that and because his natural position from the time he was a toddler playing on the beach or with his toy blocks or cars was a crouch. He's always been as comfortable in that position as most of us are sitting on the floor or kneeling."

Mac smiled at the description. She could picture in her mind this little blond, blue-eyed boy crouching in the sand while building an elaborate sand castle with his father and sister. Although she'd seen photographs of Becca, she could not mentally picture her in the way familiarity now allowed her to view Cooper.

Rod continued, "But the real reasons I made him a catcher are because of his intelligence, his calm demeanor, and his innate leadership skills. The catcher is the most important player on the team. He's like the quarterback or an additional coach. He took to the position immediately—even when playing with older kids. And I suppose it did help him that we could practice."

"I hear you can still throw a wicked curve ball," she challenged with a twinkle in her eyes.

"I can get it over the plate when required," he assured her with a grin.

"Would you like to go inside and sit down?"

He nodded, and the two of them returned to the Solarium and sat on the ends of the sofa facing towards each other.

"Can I get you a drink?" she asked.

"Mac, I'm fine."

"Okay," she said. She could see that he was internally laughing at her obvious solicitude. "Rod, about Cooper?"

He looked at her. "Yeah?"

"I don't understand how he walked away from playing college baseball so easily. He loves playing ball—any kind of ball. I tried to talk to him about it before offering him the job, but he shut me down." Seeing his expression, she added, "Only with the finality and conviction of his answer, not with his demeanor."

Rod was relieved. He'd tried to instill in the twins the same qualities of courtesy and respect that his parents had constantly impressed upon him and his siblings. "He does love to play and he's a fierce competitor. But at the end of the day, it's only a game to him. Something he does for fun. But something he has no problem letting go of—win or lose. He simply moves on to the next thing. Now his sister is a different story."

"Tell me about her."

"Where he's laid back, she's intense. While he has thick skin and will let things roll off his back, she's more sensitive. And she hates it. Soccer is more of a 'life or death' thing with her right now. She would never consider walking away from the game like he did. She's passionate about it, focused and disciplined. She honestly thinks he's crazy."

"She reminds me of your grandmother," Mac told him.

"In a lot of ways," he agreed. "She's got a lot of Lauren in her, too. But she's still growing into herself. Cooper knows more about who he is, whereas she struggles with her potential and identity. And I have no idea how to help her—not like her mother could. Lauren was completely at ease in her own skin and that's what Becca needs."

"She sounds like a typical young adult woman to me," she told him. "Most of us struggled with those same things at that age." Mac felt for him, and realized yet again how instinctive it was for him to love and protect. "It can't have been easy raising them alone."

"Well, it wasn't my first choice—obviously," he acknowledged. "Definitely not what I planned. You do what you have to do," he told her. "I was lucky to have the support of Lauren's family and mine, and good friends like Cooper and Kim. Mostly though, I was lucky to have great kids. Kids who were easy to raise because they wanted to please and wanted to achieve." He paused before adding with a sigh, "And their mother gave them a great foundation."

"She must have been a remarkable woman."

Taken back by her words, it took him a moment to find his voice. "She was," he said finally meeting her gaze. In thirteen years, he'd never spoken about Lauren to a woman who wasn't a relative. He couldn't believe he was talking about her with Mackenzie of all people. What was he doing?

"Yesterday you asked me why I never married. What about you?"

He shrugged evasively. "Haven't met the right person, I guess. Had the twins to think about. Just never saw the need."

"Has there been anybody since Lauren?"

"Nobody I considered marrying—if that's what you're getting at."

"I suppose it is," she conceded.

He sighed. "Mackenzie, about yesterday?"

"I really shocked you, didn't I?"

"You have no idea," he said with a wry grin. _Shocked me, and commandeered my thoughts and my focus every minute since_, he added silently. But she couldn't have meant it. It wasn't possible. "I told you I was glad we talked—and I am. But you can't think… you can't want? Not really."

"Can't want what? A second chance?"

He nodded.

She scooted closer to him and placed a hand on his thigh.

He looked down at her hand and then into her face.

"I know how badly I screwed things up," she said looking into his eyes. "But one thing seeing you yesterday showed me, was…. I didn't expect it to happen. I came back early from Camp David only because I wanted to make things right between us. But it did happen. And now that it has, I've realized that I want nothing more than a second chance with you."

"It's too late for us. We had our chance and couldn't make it work—and those were days when life was simple and uncomplicated."

"You mean I couldn't. I was the one."

He shook his head. "That's not what I'm saying. Look, we both made mistakes. But we can't go back. We're different people. Adults with big responsibilities. We were kids then."

"Different doesn't have to be bad. It could be good," she suggested. "Besides, you're not different—not in any of the ways that count. You are still the same strong, caring, honorable man you've always been. If you weren't Cooper could not be the many wonderful things he is." She took a breath and said, "The physical connection between us is still there. Can you deny it?"

He stared at her a moment, but instead of shying away from him, she steadily met his gaze. "What's got into you? You were never open before? Never willing to lay your cards on the proverbial table." He remembered something Michael Allen had said to him. "I'm not sure you were open even with your parents."

She smiled sardonically at her own past folly. "Maybe I finally get it, understand what was there all along. When you told me that you loved me, you said it was about you—that you couldn't stop yourself from feeling that way, or from saying the words. You said that love had to be freely given or it wasn't true. I didn't get that then," she said with a rueful shake of her head. "This may seem sudden to you. It's not to me. Because of the time I've spent with Cooper, I've had weeks getting to know the man you are today. I know what a fool I was and I've changed. I know my words aren't enough. I want to prove myself to you."

"Mackenzie," he exclaimed with a hint of desperation. "Can't you see it's impossible for us to go back? And even if we wanted to try—and I don't, your life is here and mine is in Atlanta."

"I don't buy that… not from you. Your life is your family. Your son is here, your daughter is in Durham, and the rest of your family is in Connecticut. It's crap to suggest your life is in Atlanta."

Arguing with her had always been an impossible challenge, he thought with a sigh. "Even if what you suggest is true, that's not the real problem."

She looked at him inquisitively. "The real problem?"

"Our careers," he said matter of fact. "You're not the only one who took an oath to uphold the Constitution, Mac. I take my oath as seriously as you do. As you well know, I frequently have to pass judgment on cases involving the Justice Department where the United States Government is a named party. You are the United States Government. If we were to become involved, I couldn't do my job like I swore to do. It would create a huge conflict of interest."

"Not in all cases—not even in most cases," she insisted. "And in cases where it is a problem, recuse yourself. Judges do it all the time."

"Not to this degree. It would place an enormous burden on my colleagues."

"You're exaggerating," she challenged. "I know the stats. Your court is fully staffed. There are no judicial vacancies—unlike many other circuits where they are down multiple judges."

"I don't want this…. It won't work. We can't relive the past," he said in frustration. "I know it's important for us to be friends and to have a good relationship. Cooper needs that from us. He is my first priority." Realizing how harsh his words sounded, he stopped. But he needed her to listen and understand. "I want to have a good relationship with you, want to be friends with you. But that's all we can be."

"You're throwing up excuses. That's all they are… and I think you know it."

"Mackenzie…."

"But," she continued, "if that's what you want, I have no choice. I have to accept it. I can't make you want what I want." As she spoke the significance of her words struck her. She stopped and noted with a hint of cynicism. "How ironic is that? I'm now shouting your traditional refrain." She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. What I'm trying to say is that I don't want to lose you from my life again. I care about you and Cooper too much. So if that's the price I have to pay, so be it."

"I don't want to make this hard on you. I would never want to hurt you," he told her sincerely. "But anything else just won't work. I am sorry."

"I know," she answered quietly. She could see how difficult it was for him. "It's my own fault. You gave me so many chances. I can't blame you for…." She had to look away. The bitterness of her disappointment was too intense.

He gently turned her head until she was again looking at him. "It's nobody's fault—it just happened. We were young and the timing wasn't right for us. We weren't meant to be. Don't for one minute however, think that I don't care about you—and yes, want you—because I do. But you deserve more from a relationship that I can give you. All I have to offer you is friendship."

"Okay," she said with an attempt at a smile. "I get it. I won't ask for more." She looked at her watch. "You've got a plane to catch."

They stood and he said, "Stay. I can see myself out." He began to walk away but stopped and faced her. "Mackenzie?"

She looked up.

"Thank you for explaining and coming back early," he said softly as he closed the distance between them. "It does mean something to me." He stepped closer. "I'm sorry," he repeated tenderly as he tucked some of her hair behind her ear.

She watched him leave and whispered, "Me, too." She knew that she deserved much less than the friendship he'd offered, but her mended and patched heart was split wide open again nonetheless. After a few minutes she walked downstairs and went straight to her bedroom. She closed and locked the door. Then she did what she had only allowed herself to do on rare occasions. She wept.


	15. Breaking the Ice

**15. Breaking the Ice**

**Sunday, March 6, 2016**

Rod wandered aimlessly through the shops at Reagan-National Airport. His flight home had been delayed because of weather conditions in Atlanta. He couldn't sit still. He wasn't hungry. And there wasn't a book in the little bookstore that captured his attention. In fact, he couldn't remember a single title.

He felt terrible about how he'd left things with Mackenzie. He'd done the only thing he could do. But he could have done it better—gentler. He hadn't been prepared for any of it, and certainly not for this new Mac. He never dreamed he would hear that she wanted a second chance with him.

But she wanted them to go back. She wanted him to regret what had happened between them. Didn't she understand that he couldn't? He could never turn his back on his wife and his children. They were everything to him. The past was over. He couldn't go back, couldn't change what fate had decreed.

He looked up and wandered into a souvenir shop. Immediately he was bombarded by towels, robes and soap inscribed with "The White House." There was also "Air Force One" hats, pins, T-shirts, and playing cards. He shook his head at the lunacy of it all, and walked further into the store where he was confronted with White House Christmas ornaments from the past five years. Was there no escape?

Besides how could they make it work? His life and career were in Atlanta. Hers were in Washington. He lived a quiet, autonomous existence. He came and went as he pleased without restriction. He could golf when he wanted, travel when he felt the urge, go to as many baseball games as he liked and sit in whatever seat he chose. He could drive his car or boat when in the mood, and without a convoy. Her life, on the other hand, was as far removed from his as was possible. And she was currently caught up in the middle of the world's biggest circus: An American presidential campaign. Who in their right mind would volunteer to live like that? Live in a world where to travel one block a full motorcade was required—including an ambulance. Or where to stand outside on your balcony, there had to be men with guns out there with you.

However, regardless of how right he was, it felt wrong. She'd had the guts to apologize and to lay it all out on the line. She'd swallowed her pride and had allowed herself to be vulnerable, which was a place she hated to be. Yet she'd done it. And despite his best intention, he'd thrown it in her face.

_What happens now?_ He asked himself with a heavy sigh. He couldn't leave things like they were. It was impossible for them to be what they once were to each other. But maybe, they could be friends. She said that she was willing to accept that, and that she didn't want to lose him from her life. His son was crazy about her, and she was good for him. Cooper needed them to be friends—real friends. He sincerely wanted that, too.

_Where to start? Should he wait for her? No_, he decided, _that wouldn't be fair_. She made the first move this time. It was his turn. It was up to him to make things better. She needed to know he recognized what it had cost her to open up and share with him like she had. More important, that she didn't need to feel bad or embarrassed about it. He needed her to understand, that although they couldn't go back to how things had been, she was important to him and to his son, and that he cared about her. _But how?_ That was the million-dollar question.

Feeling a little better, he decided to get something to eat while he thought about what he could do. As he walked out of the store, however, he spotted it: The perfect solution.

XXXXXXXXXX

**Wednesday, March 9, 2016**

Mac walked into the outer office shortly before eight. Cooper and Laura were already at their desks. "Morning," she greeted them.

"Morning, ma'am," they echoed.

"Cooper, could you get me a cup of coffee?" she asked with a sigh.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Thanks." She'd been trying to cut back and limit herself to a single cup at breakfast, and a cup late in the morning. But she hadn't slept well the past few nights.

She opened the door to her office and walked inside. She was at a crossroads. She'd cried every tear she possessed several times over since Sunday afternoon. It hadn't changed anything. She loved him. But he didn't want it.

He was right. They weren't kids anymore. They were adults with responsibilities, and jobs that in many ways put them on opposite sides of the proverbial fence. They also lived in different states. But if he saw her job as an insurmountable obstacle, she was doomed. If he couldn't see past it, nobody could. Maybe she should have kept her mouth shut and not told him how she felt. But how could she have under the circumstances? Hadn't he deserved honesty from her? Hadn't she owed herself the same? She'd unknowingly deceived herself—and him—in the past. She couldn't make that same mistake again. Not now. Not with him.

He said that he cared about her and desired her, even. But how much? Was there a chance for them down the road? Or was he as adamant about them as he'd sounded? If he was, could she live with it? Could she stand to be "just friends" with him? If he meant what he'd said. He could have been handing her a line… a way out. But she didn't think so. He'd always been sincere and a man of honor.

Where did they go from here? And how? She sighed deeply and looked at the stack of reports on her desk. These personal questions would have to wait. Time to work, she silently commanded. Time to be "Madam President."

Only then did she see the vase of roses and gift box sitting on the far corner of her desk. Her breath caught. They couldn't be, could they? She immediately stood and crossed to the front of the desk. The roses were gorgeous: vivid pinks, peaches, yellows and reds. She bent her head. They smelled wonderful. She looked but found no card.

With nervous anticipation she turned her attention to the beautifully wrapped box. Quickly she untied the ribbon and tore off the paper. She removed the lid and found a note card bearing her name on top of the tissue paper, which surrounded its contents. She picked it up and read the at once familiar scrawl:

_MSA- It's good to have you back in my life, too. I don't want to lose you again either. Thank you for coming back early, and for understanding. It means a lot. RGC._

An unanticipated smile creased her face as she put down the card. It was as if he'd read her mind. How did he manage it? She started to ask herself. It was a ridiculous question. He, of course, had a loyal co-conspirator on the inside. She tore back the tissue paper and pulled out a slate blue hooded sweatshirt with _"Women Who Behave Rarely Make History" _written on the upper left side. When the initial shock faded, she realized that he'd done it again. Only this time, the words stitched on the jacket were undeniably directed towards her.

Cooper walked into the office and found his boss leaning against her desk, studying an item of clothing, an amused smile on her face. Whatever it was that Dad had sent as a thank you, definitely had worked. "Ma'am, here's your coffee and Vince was wondering if you had a few minutes. He has some questions about the weekend speeches."

She took the offered coffee and set it on the desk. She didn't need it anymore. "Can we fit Vince in?"

"Yes, ma'am," he told her. "First thing if you want."

"That's fine," she replied. "You don't happen to know anything about the gifts on my desk, do you?"

He grinned. "I plead the Fifth on the roses. But I had nothing to do with the box."

"You sure you don't know anything about this?" she pressed, holding up the sweatshirt. His initial reaction would speak volumes as to his knowledge. She watched with pleasure as he read the words on the shirt and his jaw dropped. He'd known nothing about it. It truly was from his father. "What do you think?" she asked. "Should I wear it on the campaign trail?"

Cooper looked at her before responding. "Yeah. It's awesome," he said upon seeing her grin.

"Your Dad always has excelled at word play."

He smirked. "You know about that?"

"Oh yeah," she admitted. "Was the victim of it a few times at law school. Do you play, too?"

"I can hold my own."

"I bet you can. Well, thanks for playing delivery boy. Why don't you tell Vince to come on in?"

"Yes, ma'am." Cooper nodded.

While she waited for Vince, Mac threw away the paper and carried the roses and sweatshirt into her private study. She wasn't ready to answer the inquiring looks she would inevitably receive from her colleagues if she left the roses on her desk. Besides, she didn't have the answers they'd be demanding. But she felt a lot better about trusting her instincts. He'd told her years ago that their relationship wasn't a race. Looking back, she'd heard the words, but had failed to grasp their true significance. Now, perhaps it was her turn. If it didn't work out like she hoped, she'd have to learn to live with the consequences of her earlier stupidity. She made a mental note to have Laura find out some information for her.

XXXXXXXXXX

**Thursday, March 10, 2016**

After speaking with Cooper yesterday, Rod arrived at work more rested than he'd been in weeks. He didn't like using him as an intermediary. But in this instance he had no choice. The important thing was that she'd seemed pleased with her surprise.

He sat down at his desk and opened his email. He was surprised to find a message from a "misbehaving" written at 11 p.m. last night with "thank you" as the subject line. He quickly clicked on it:

_Mister-Thank you for the beautiful roses. They were a most welcome surprise this morning, and brighten my bedroom tonight. And I love the sweatshirt. I can't tell you how tempting it is to wear it the next time I have to endure the condescending ramblings of Nathan Templeton. How on earth did you come up with it? How was the flight home? Misbehaving._

He smiled as he read her message again. "Misbehaving," huh? And "Mister." He was never going to hear the end of it from the Calloway women when they figured out the status quo had changed—particularly from his grandmother, who frequently had tacked on a "Mister" to the front of his full name when he was in trouble as a boy.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. "Come in," he called.

"Morning, Judge."

"Morning, Cam." Cameron Mitchell and his wife, Mary, were his law clerks. They'd graduated with honors from the University of Chicago's law school. Both of them were incredibly bright, hard working, and personable. Cam was also a fantastic golfer. Rod would be sorry to see them move on in September. They'd been with him for almost two years, and he was hoping to convince them to delay private practice another year.

"Here's that bench memo you requested on the _Peterson_ case."

Rod took the paper and began to glance through it superficially. "What does it look like?"

"Not as complex as we thought it might be. The parties did a decent job with the case law, and were honest for the most part. I found a few additional cites, and put together a comprehensive statement of facts from both briefs."

"Thanks," he said. "I've got the _Jiminez_ and _Coca Cola_ cases this morning, and then I'm taking off. Why don't you and Mary do the same? There's nothing that can't wait until next week. I'll be gone all weekend. You have a key if you want to play tennis, watch a movie, or whatever."

"You honestly wouldn't mind?"

"Of course, not. Do you remember the alarm code?"

Cam nodded. "Need us to take care of anything?"

"Not a thing."

"Are you headed up to Augusta?"

"Yeah. My brother-in-law is on the broadcast team."

"Lucky you."

"Definitely." Tickets to The Masters were more elusive than the Super Bowl, or any other sporting event, for that matter.

"When are they going to make you a member?"

Rod smirked. "Not until they accept women. Otherwise the women in my life—including your wife—would lynch me. I love golf, but not that much," he added playfully. "I probably won't drive back until Monday morning so don't rush in."

"Thanks. Mary will love it. Have fun in Augusta. I'm totally jealous."

"Have a good weekend." Rod checked his watch as Cam left. Her email would have to wait until after court.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mac was relieved when finally she made it upstairs shortly after midnight. Tonight had been the annual State Dinner for the Nation's Governors. Because it was an election year, and because she was an Independent, the night had added importance. She'd made a conscious effort the past eleven months to build strong relationships with the various governors. She got the feeling tonight that it was beginning to pay off.

She changed and got ready for bed. However, before she turned off the light she turned on her seldom-used laptop and opened the email account she'd created last night. She grinned broadly when she found a message from "mister."

_Misbehaving-I'm glad you liked your surprise. My flight was delayed several hours and to kill time I wandered around the airport shops. I saw the sweatshirt and had to get it. It could only have been made with you in mind. I did some research and the quote belongs to Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, a Pulitzer Prize winning history professor from Harvard. Would love to see the expression on the Speaker's face if he was to see you in the sweatshirt. The arrogant, pompous, pathetic jerk. Yes… I've heard all about his shenanigans. You scare him. He knows he can never measure up, so he's resorting to acts of desperation. _

_How's your week been? I hear you'll be on the campaign trail all weekend. Where to this time? _

_Mister. _

She smiled, clicked on iTunes, selected her 90s playlist, and began to type.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Thanks, Matt," Rod said with a yawn. "Aren't you tired?" It was after one. The two of them had been reviewing tape of the day's opening round. For Matt it was work. But for him it was pure fun (and educational, he hoped).

"I'm getting there," he said. "Need to check a few more things."

"Well, I'm ready to hit the sack."

"Good night. Thanks for keeping me company. It helps to think aloud."

Rod smirked. "Anytime, bud."

He walked upstairs yawning the whole way. What a week it had been, he thought, as he climbed in the shower. When he finished getting ready for bed, he pulled out his laptop and logged onto his new personal email account. His heart began to thump loudly when he saw there was a new message from her:

_Mister-Sorry about the flight delay. Do I need to have a talk with the FAA? Week has been hectic as usual. But at least I've managed to avoid the Situation Room. Tonight was the annual dinner for the Governors. Fortunately, it was my second time around. Last year I felt like the freak show on display at the local circus: "Come see the first female President!" _

_Will be working and campaigning on the West Coast: San Francisco, Palo Alto, Oakland, and Sacramento on Friday night, Saturday, and Sunday. Portland and Seattle on Monday. Red-eye Monday night. _

_How was your week? What are your weekend plans? (If they in any shape or form include a date with a hot babe, I don't want to hear about it! I'm not ready to be that kind of friend.) _

_Misbehaving._

Rod alternatively grinned and laughed out loud as he read. He was also greatly relieved that she didn't seem to regret telling him how she felt, and that she still possessed the same wry, self-deprecating sense of humor he'd known so well. He flipped on the television to the late edition of _Sports Center_, and hit reply.

XXXXXXXXXX

**Friday, March 11, 2016**

Wiping her sweaty face with a towel, Mac walked into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water before heading directly to her bedroom. She hadn't allowed herself to touch her computer until she had done her morning run. Given the schedule the next several days, a very early run this morning was her only opportunity for significant exercise. So she'd used emotional blackmail on herself to accomplish it.

It would be a pointless exercise, but she couldn't resist checking her email. It was such an adolescent thing to do. She almost squealed when she found a message waiting for her.

_Good morning. Unless the FAA can now control the weather, they're off the hook. I feel much safer knowing my President has spent a "situation" free week. It's true you've received an inordinate amount of attention the past year, even for the leader of the free world. Somehow, I don't see that changing, even after the election. _

_Week was good. Reading, research and writing, as usual. Put on the robe and heard oral argument on two cases this morning. Fortunately, I won't have to write the opinion on either one._

_The only women I'll be spending any time with this weekend are my pregnant sister, niece, and best friend's wife and daughters. Matt is doing The Masters so I drove up to Augusta yesterday afternoon to spend some time with them, and watch a little golf. Cooper, Kim and the girls are coming down from Baltimore late tonight. _

_You would get a kick out of Alex's little Grace. She's adorable and swings a golf club better than I do. My only date will be a trip to the Build-a-Bear store with her. What kind of bear should we make for you?_

_Sounds like a wild few days ahead of you with long plane rides both directions. By the way, my son has a serious crush on both your helicopter and airplane. I'm afraid he'll want your job someday simply for the cool methods of transportation. What time do you leave today?_

Mac chuckled. She knew all about Cooper's affection for planes, helicopters and trap doors. She looked at the clock by her bed. She preferred to do her own packing and was running late. However, she couldn't wait to respond. But first she had to do some research and learn about "the Build-a-Bear" store.

XXXXXXXXXX

Out of habit, Rod awakened early. Luckily, the house they were renting had a home gym. He ran for forty minutes and lifted weights before showering and dressing. He grabbed his laptop and went downstairs to make breakfast. Grace, like his twins when they were young, loved scrambled eggs and chocolate chip pancakes. She still hadn't acquired a taste for cheese grits, but he was working on it.

While he waited for the girls and Matt, he turned on the computer. He really didn't expect to find anything. It was too early. All the same, he was powerless to stop himself from looking anyway.

_Good morning to you, too. The FAA will be greatly relieved that they are not on the President's blacklist (at least not at the moment). I've seen a photo of you wearing the robe. Very distinguished… and sexy. Wheels-up this afternoon at one. Never did learn to play golf although my Dad tried on many occasions. I want a "Big Hugs" bear in a baseball uniform._

He finished reading just as little Grace, still in her pajamas, ran to him and climbed up on his lap. "Hi, sweetie," he said giving her a squeeze. "Did you sleep good? No monsters?" She'd been nervous about sleeping in a strange room last night.

Grace shook her head. "You scared them all away."

Rod grinned. "I told you so. Now, how about some eggs and pancakes?" he asked as Alex joined them.

"Yeah," she said excitedly. "I'm starved."

"Will you try just a little bit of the cheese grits?"

"Do I have to?" she said looking up at him with big, brown eyes.

"No. But it would make me happy."

"Oh, okay."

"Good girl. Why don't you sit next to me and I'll get you a plate."

"I've got it," Alex told him, putting down a little plate in front of Grace, who was now sitting next to him. She leaned down and kissed his cheek.

"Morning, big brother."

He studied her close. "You look beautiful, sis."

"I feel good—increasingly fat, but good." She was at twenty weeks and really beginning to show.

"Not fat. Pregnant," he assured her with an affectionate pat to her belly.

"Yeah," she acknowledged with a smile as she grabbed a couple more plates. "Do you want the works?"

"I've eaten," he told her. "Matt still asleep?"

"On the phone. I have no idea what time he came to bed." She filled her plate and sat on his opposite side.

"It was after one," he said pouring all of them a glass of juice. "You know what the routine is, particularly during a Major."

"I know," she said with a sigh. "I'm glad you were able to join us."

"I'm glad you are taking things easier on the work front."

"I feel bad about leaving so much on Toph with Dad gone, but…"

"Your health comes first. He's a big boy. He can handle the added responsibility. Eat your breakfast. I have to check something."

While the girls ate, he turned his attention back to the message in front of him. When he finished, he shut the computer and found Alex staring at him.

"Have you met somebody new?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Yesterday and today you've had a smug, self-satisfied air about you. And while you were typing you had a big, stupid grin on your face. That can only mean one thing: a woman."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied with a red face. "I haven't met anyone new. You're crazy."

"I don't think so," she said with a shake of the head. She'd spent enough time around Christopher to know the signs. But she'd never seen them from Rod before. Except years ago with Lauren and…. "Wait a minute," she told him with a knowing smile. "You were in DC last weekend with Cooper. You went to the White House. It's Mackenzie! You've seen her."

"What are you talking about? I was just checking a few scores."

"Yeah right! I wasn't born yesterday—nor has pregnancy addled my brain. Baseball season doesn't begin for three weeks. You were emailing Mackenzie."

He sighed. "Okay. Yes, I saw her over the weekend. We talked and have agreed to be friends. That's it. We are _not_ seeing each other."

"Friends? Sure," she said leaning back in her chair while cupping a hand around her stomach.

"Honestly, that's it. Friends. Nothing else," he said firmly. He turned to Grace. "How were the grits?"

"Okay," she said, "but not as good as the pancakes."

"Fair enough."

Alex knew better than to press him further. But she would bet a million dollars that she was right. She couldn't wait to tell Nana and Sydney about it.

"Can we go to the Bear store today?" Grace asked.

Alex smiled.

"Uh huh," he said. "If Mommy says it's okay," he said with a wink to Alex, "you and I can go when Daddy and I get back from the golf thing. We'll get dinner and go to the bear store, and we'll make them stay home."

"Can we Mommy?"

Smothering a smile, Alex pretended to think about it. "I guess so. But are you sure Daddy and I can't come, too?"

"Nope. It's my turn. You have to stay home."

XXXXXXXXXX

Mac made it through the morning, managed to pack, and almost left on time. It had been an unusually busy day for a Friday. She'd greeted the National Champion Ohio State Buckeye football team in a Rose Garden ceremony with a gloating Jeffrey Rivers standing close by. Afterwards she'd gone to the Pentagon for Department of Defense briefings and a statement. Followed by a luncheon meeting and joint statements with the President of Columbia.

Now she was stuck in the Air Force One conference room listening to reports from the various department heads of the "Committee to Re-Elect Mackenzie Allen." Next, she would be reviewing the weekend's speeches with her press secretary and former speechwriter, Kelly Ludlow, and Vince.

After an hour, she'd had it. She leaned back and looked at Cooper. She noted with amusement that he was doodling and trying hard to stay awake. Poor kid! He'd been working long hours and studying hard. When finally she caught his eye, she motioned for him to come to her.

"Yes, ma'am?" he whispered.

"Go in my cabin and get my laptop," she said quietly. "It's on my desk."

He nodded and returned a few minutes later with the desired object. Mac pretended to listen as she logged on. She couldn't, however, maintain a straight face when she found what she'd been hoping for:

_A "Big Hugs" bear it is. You know, it's never too late to learn—in all your spare time. You're not afraid of a little white ball, are you?_

She typed quickly and then forced her attention back on her campaign finance director.

XXXXXXXXXX

Rod checked his watch: 3 p.m. She was two hours into a five-hour flight. Cooper had told him that things were often more quiet and relaxed on long flights. He pulled his Blackberry from his pocket and gave it a quick look:

_I'm not afraid of that white ball. But there's a bigger white ball you are familiar with that currently scares me to death. It's a stupid tradition, if you ask me. How is Alex feeling? Make sure you tell everybody "hello," and give Alex, Matt and Grace my congratulations on the baby._

Why would she be scared of a baseball? He wondered. What tradition was she talking about? Then it dawned on him. Yeah, she would be terrified about that one.

XXXXXXXXXX

Finally the campaign meeting broke up. She was tired of the conference room, and craved the informal comfort of her cabin. As the others left, she said to Kelly and Vince, "Why don't we talk up front? We can put Jim on speakerphone from there when we're ready." Her chief of staff had remained at home to keep tabs on everything else.

They nodded.

"Can I get you anything?" Cooper asked.

"I'm fine," she told him. "Did you bring your homework?"

"Yes, ma'am. Have a paper to write on the modern presidency for my seminar."

"Why don't you work on it for the rest of the flight. You can spread out in here."

"Thanks."

She walked with Kelly and Vince down the hall to her cabin, which was located in the nose of the plane, directly beneath the cockpit and communications center. While they pulled out the speeches and got settled, she sat at her desk and again opened her laptop with the faint hope that he might have seen her last message:

_Alex is doing great. So happy. After everything she's been through, it's wonderful to see. They just found out it's a boy. But don't tell Cooper. They want to play a joke on him about it being a little girl they plan to name "Willamina Cooperetta" in his honor._

She couldn't help herself. She laughed aloud, which earned her a series of questioning looks from both Kelly and Vince. She typed a short answer and then picked up her copy of the weekend's speeches. However, she kept her computer open.

XXXXXXXXXX

Rod felt the familiar vibration. Again he pulled out the Blackberry.

_I would love to see his face when they pull that one on him. Just so you know, I keep getting crazy looks from my staff about my constant companionship with my laptop when I haven't touched it in months (not to mention the periodic typing). Are "Willamina" and "Cooperetta" even words?_

He laughed out loud and received a few dirty looks of his own, as one of the contenders was about to strike a putt.

XXXXXXXXXX

Fifteen minutes later, Mac subtly hit the "refresh" button. She smiled when a little "1" appeared on her inbox. He must be at his computer, too. Keeping one eye on Kelly, she focused her other eye on the screen in front of her:

_Know the feeling. I've been getting more than a few of those looks myself, particularly as I no longer manage my investment portfolio and baseball season hasn't started yet. Instead I've developed a sudden and insatiable interest in college basketball. Did you know it's conference tournament time? Just in case you were wondering, Yale won last night, but Brown lost. I'll try not to gloat. I don't have to check the Duke score. Becca keeps me more than informed. I concede on "Cooperetta" but "Willamina" is a word. It's the name of a city in western Oregon._

She again laughed. Nobody had ever made her smile and laugh like he did.

Kelly stopped talking and looked at Vince as if to say: "What is going on? Is she drunk?"

Mac saw the look and felt her face flush. She focused more deliberately on them, at least for a few minutes.

XXXXXXXXXX

Rod felt another vibration. He didn't know what she was supposed to be doing, but obviously she, too, was distracted. He was glad that things were normalizing between them.

_Perfect about Willamina. That will definitely add to the joke. Out of curiosity, were you born with some kind of ball in your hands? Or is it some genetic or emotional disorder? Where are you anyway?_

XXXXXXXXXX

Mac forced herself to wait ten minutes before hitting refresh.

_Definitely a genetic disorder. I'm on the golf course—the fifteenth hole to be precise. Although I have no idea who is leading the tournament. I'm going to have to pay closer attention or Matt will think I've had a stroke of some kind. I have to tell you, I'm on my Blackberry and I suck at this texting thing. It takes me several minutes to type out a sentence. I keep hitting the wrong keys, or somehow manage to erase the whole thing before I get it sent._

She didn't quite close her mouth in time to prevent more laughter from escaping.

XXXXXXXXXX

Rod didn't bother to put the PDA back in his pocket. He held it, which proved smart.

_Typing with one hand and one eye is not much more effective or efficient. I'm also receiving curious looks from my press secretary and speechwriter because you keep making me laugh when we're supposed to be working on tomorrow night's speech on AIDS._

XXXXXXXXXXX

Mac finally gave up. She interrupted Vince mid-sentence. "Can you guys give me thirty minutes? There's something on my mind I need to work on."

"Sure," they replied, still baffled by her behavior.

"Thanks."

As they left, she picked up the computer and sat on one of the couches:

_How is the campaign coming? How do you feel about it?_

XXXXXXXXXX

Every exchange took Rod a step back from the rope line surrounding the green as others fought to get closer. He didn't care. Besides, he was tall enough to see over people's heads. He looked down and read:

_It's coming. Eight months and it will be over, one way or another. Some days and hours I feel good about it. Other times, no. Mostly though, I wonder if I'm not totally crazy to even attempt the impossible. I'm a female and an Independent. Good luck with that!_

He could picture the wry look on her face as she typed. He paused a moment to think.

XXXXXXXXXX

She was surprised his reply was slow to come, particularly when she saw how short it was:

_Is there anybody running who can do the job better than you?_

She stopped. She hadn't shared her thoughts about this with anyone.

XXXXXXXXXX

When her response didn't come immediately, he made an effort to focus on the golf. He logged onto ESPN and glanced down the leader board. He was almost through it when her message popped up:

_That's a loaded question. Am I insane for wanting this job? For believing I can do this job like it needs to be done? _

He smiled.

XXXXXXXXXX

For some unknown reason, she was afraid of what he would say. Probably because she knew he would be honest.

_Life in the White House is absurd. Spending time with you last weekend and seeing all the baggage that comes with the Office you hold, there is no other way to describe it. But this is your destiny. It's what you were born to do. You can't run from it. It's who you were meant to be—who you need to be._

Her father had said the same thing when she was making the decision whether to become Teddy's running mate. Rod and her father: alike in so many ways. She felt her emotions rise to the surface. She'd lost her father. She missed him every day. But perhaps in Rod, she'd regained the only possible substitute for what she'd lost. She hoped so. She needed his strength, his wisdom, his encouragement… his support.

XXXXXXXXXX

Rather than continue with the pretext that he was actually interested in what was taking place in front of him, Rod turned around and headed for the press hospitality area to wait for the round to finish. Matt had given him a pass. He could watch the television coverage and chat with Mackenzie from a comfortable chair with a cool drink in hand. Just as he arrived, his Blackberry went off:

_Thank you. I've missed your encouragement and support. Even in law school you had a keen political mind. I'm hoping you have some ideas for me._

XXXXXXXXXX

Almost immediately she got a response:

_A few…. Several, actually. When you have time, we can discuss them._

She was about to reply when Cooper poked his head in.

"Mr. Gardner is on the line, says it's urgent."

She nodded and picked up the phone on the wall by her desk. "What is it, Jim?"

"A Predator drone has been shot down or had mechanical difficulties over Iranian air space."

"Okay. Assemble everyone in the Sit Room and call me back. I'll head upstairs in a couple of minutes."

"Yes, Ma'am."

She sighed heavily. Today more than ever, she hated the interruption.

XXXXXXXXXX

He finished his drink while he waited. It didn't take long as he was thirsty.

_The honeymoon is over: One of our unmanned surveillance planes has crashed somewhere in Iran. I don't know what the next few days are going to look like, and whether this will require a change of plans. Can we talk—really talk—next week?_

XXXXXXXXXX

_Of course, we can. I know you'll make the right decision on Iran—the best decision. But Mackenzie…. Be careful out there. Listen to the Secret Service. Make sure Junior eats all his vegetables, and that he actually buttons the top button on his shirt. He has a tendency to be a slacker where shirts and ties are concerned. Now get to work, Madam President!_


	16. Inside Baseball

**16. Inside Baseball  
Tuesday, March 15, 2016**

"Welcome to the White House. I am very proud of you," Mac said shaking the hands of the thirteen year-old National Spelling Bee winner and her parents in the Oval Office. "Why don't we sit down for a few minutes?"

"Thank you, Madam President," Mr. Abboud replied. "It is an honor to be here."

"The honor belongs to me," Mac answered warmly as she sat on one of the couches and gestured for them to do the same. The family had fled religious and political persecution in the Sudan fourteen years ago and had worked tirelessly to build a better life for themselves in the United States.

"So Sittina, what are you going to be when you grow up?"

"President."

Mac smiled. "Good." She looked at Cooper, whom she'd asked to sit in on the visit. "Looks like you've got some competition."

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a grin.

"This is my aide, Cooper Calloway," Mac told them. "He wants my job, too. Mostly because he likes the airplanes and helicopters that goes along with it."

Everybody, including Cooper, laughed.

"I love airplanes," Sittina said. "I want to be a pilot, too."

"I tell you what," Mac told her. "You win again next year and you can take a trip with me on Air Force One."

"Honestly, ma'am?"

"Honestly," Mac assured her. "Of course, I've got an election to win first."

"You're going to win, Madam President," Mrs. Abboud said.

"I certainly hope so." Mac turned to Cooper. "Did you come up with something for me?"

"Yes, ma'am." He handed her a piece of paper.

"Before we call the official photographer in," Mac told Sittina, "you have one more word to spell. I had Cooper scour the dictionary this morning. Are you ready?"

"I guess so," Sittina answered hesitantly with a very nervous expression.

"The word is 'congratulations.'" Mac managed a straight face but she couldn't control the unmistakable twinkle in her eyes.

Slowly a relieved smile appeared on the young girl's face. "C-O-N-G-R-A-T-U-L-A-T-I-O-N-S."

"Well done," Mac said standing and again shaking her hand. "You might have to settle for Vice President," she said to Cooper as he opened the office door to admit the White House photographer.

"I can live with that," he replied. "Most of the perks and only a fraction of the work. Just make sure you stay alive, Sittina. I don't want to get stuck like the boss here did."

Everyone laughed. The group—minus Cooper, posed for a few photographs and he escorted them out. A few minutes later he returned carrying a large Fed Ex box.

"What's that?" Mac asked.

"Don't know," he shrugged with a baffled expression. "Dad had me go home at lunch and pick it up. He said it was something you requested."

Mac quickly opened the box and found a teddy bear with soft, curly fur and a big, distinctive nose, dressed in a Red Sox uniform. She laughed. It was her "Big Hugs" bear, and it was much cuter than it had appeared online. She noticed a piece of paper fastened to its back. It was a birth certificate listing "Mackenzie Spencer Allen" residing at "1600 Pennsylvania Avenue" as the parent of an "18 inch male bear." However, its name had been left blank.

Cooper rolled his eyes. "You requested a stuffed animal in a Red Sox Uniform?" he asked in a tone that could barely disguise his disgust at her choice of teams.

She smiled. "It's a long story. Your Dad took Grace to the Build-a-Bear store over the weekend."

"I get it now," he said with a shake of the head. "Becca and I loved that store when we were that age."

"Sit down." Continuing to hold the bear, she sat behind her desk.

He nodded.

She was silent for a moment. She'd never had a conversation like this before and wasn't exactly sure where to begin. She decided straightforward would be best. "You know that your Dad and I dated in law school and then didn't speak to each other for more than twenty years."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I know it must be strange. But… are you okay with us being friends now?"

"It's a little weird," he agreed. "But I'm cool with it." His Dad had already asked him the same thing. He honestly was okay with it, even if they wanted to date again. He liked her a lot, and he wanted his Dad to be happy.

"Thanks," she said with a small sigh. "We have a good time together. But I would never want to do anything…." She was interrupted by a knock on the side door followed immediately by Jim's entrance into the office. "What is it?"

"I just received word that Justice Jackson has passed away."

"How?" Mac asked stunned.

"Heart attack."

Immediately she went back into "President Mode." "Thanks, Cooper," she told him. "Would you get rid of this box, push the schedule back an hour, and have Kelly and Vince join us?"

"Yes, ma'am," he told her picking up the empty box.

Failing to notice the look of curiosity on her Chief of Staff's face, Mac moved her yet to be named furry friend to the credenza behind her desk.

XXXXXXXXX

Thirty minutes later Mac and Jim sat alone in her office after meeting with Kelly and Vince. Together they'd crafted an official statement praising the Justice for his life's work. She'd instructed that the only answer to the press corps endless questions for the time being would be that a short list would be created and an announcement made sometime in the next couple of weeks.

In addition, she ordered that the flags at all federal buildings be at half-mast for the next thirty days, and assigned Nora Woodruff, the former First Lady's chief of staff, to be a liaison with the Court and the Jackson family in regards to the funeral. Nora had been devastated by Grace Bridges' departure and was in desperate need of a project to keep her busy. Nora wanted her to be both President and First Lady, and it was driving her nuts.

"Confirmation is going to be a battle in the Senate, even more so than usual, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jim nodded. "You don't have a political party you can lean on for support. Plus it's an election year and nobody will want to make it easy on you. They want you to appear weak."

"Yeah," she agreed with a sigh. "Who was on Teddy's short list? Do you remember? That probably would be a good place to start the search."

"Let me get it."

"You mean there's an actual list?"

"Yes, ma'am. In my desk, under lock and key."

"Hmm…" What else, she wondered, was under "lock and key" in his office?

A few minutes later, he returned and handed her a piece of paper. Rod was not only on the list, he was at the top. Just seeing his name made her heart race. "Did Teddy have a preference? A first choice?" she asked.

"You," Jim replied unequivocally.

"Me?" she repeated, her eyes widening with surprise until her thoughts cleared. "So that was his plan."

"Yeah," he acknowledged. He wasn't proud of the role he'd played in that decision, but she needed and deserved to know the truth.

"Smart plan. Would have been a hard thing to turn down," she said thoughtfully.

He nodded.

"So assuming I'd said 'no,' who was next?"

"Judge Calloway."

She leaned back in her chair. Those were the words she dreaded hearing. "I see," she said after a moment's pause. "Well, he's certainly qualified. Is he confirmable?" she asked, hoping to find a reason not to do what her heart was telling her she must.

"Much easier than most."

"Why?"

"Because he's already been heavily vetted. In addition, he's a moderate who not only survived a prior nomination, he breezed through. There are probably close to fifty senators who voted in favor of confirmation last time, and who will have a devil of a time trying to vote against him now. Besides, he's affable, politically savvy, and personally he's above reproach: a combat veteran, a philanthropist, a widower and a single father who's raised two terrific kids."

"Somehow I don't think he's going to be happy with that last bit. From what I know, he hates that kind of attention."

Jim nodded. "And that will be one more factor in his favor."

"If he's the choice, will having Cooper as my aide complicate things?"

"I don't think so."

"What about the fact that he and I dated in law school?"

Jim froze momentarily. "I'd forgotten all about that, ma'am. Hmm…"

"How would you know about us?"

"You forget, we vetted you both, albeit at different times and for different reasons. It was our business to know."

"Of course. Somehow I'd managed to forget that whole business," she said wryly.

"I know it ended badly between you, but what happened?"

She hated to tell him, but he had to know. "Mostly a misunderstanding that was my fault. Never should have happened."

"What about now? Where do things stand?"

She shrugged. "Well, we didn't speak for twenty years until Cooper's arrival changed things. Now…. Well, now we're getting reacquainted."

There was something in her voice and her expression that made him think there was much more to the current story. But if that were the case, why would she even consider him?

"What do you think?" she asked. "Does our past become a problem?"

"Perhaps," he acknowledged. "If so, it shouldn't be too hard to handle."

She nodded. "I want to think things over tonight. Mind if I keep the list?"

"Of course, ma'am."

Mac looked at her watch. "Let's get the schedule back on track."

"Yes, ma'am."

XXXXXXXXXX

**Wednesday, March 16, 2016**

"I made the call," Jim said as Mac entered her office from the South Lawn.

She'd visited a new charter school in the District first thing this morning in an effort to promote her education agenda. "And?" she asked anxiously walking towards her desk.

"He said, 'Thanks, but no thanks.'"

She stopped. "You're kidding?"

"No." Jim had been surprised, too. Not many people summarily dismissed the President of the United States like he had done. "He asked that we not consider him further. Seemed very adamant about it. It was very strange. He almost seemed offended."

"Don't worry about it," she told him taking a seat. "I think I know what the problem is. I'll handle it."

"Do you want me to call any of the others? Set up some interviews for next week?"

"Not yet," she said. "I want to speak with him first."

"Yes, ma'am."

XXXXXXXXXX

"_Judge Calloway?"_

Rod hit the intercom button. "What is it, Susan?"

"_The White House is calling again. The President would like to speak with you."_

"Thank you," he said, making little effort to mask his frustration. He picked up the phone. "Calloway," he said impatiently.

"_Allen."_

"Yes, Madam President."

"_What's with that?" she asked, equally curt. "I thought we took care of that title thing."_

"I was told I had a call from the President of the United States," he informed her. "That's how _she_ should be addressed."

"_You're angry."_

"Of course, I'm angry," he practically shouted. "What did you expect? How did you think I'd react to getting that call this morning? I don't like being handled, Mac. Any more than you do. And don't ever staff me out again. If you need to talk to me, you call—you. Not Cooper, not your Chief of Staff, not the Vice President, not the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff!"

"_You're right," she said when he finally paused._

"Now it will be all over the court that I've received two calls from the White House. I'm going to spend the week fighting off questions." He took a deep breath. "Mac, what are you doing?"

"_I'm trying to appoint a new Supreme Court Justice. That's all. The question is what are you doing? It's a dream job, Rod. The dream job."_

"Yes, it is," he acknowledged contemplatively. "And it will make some other judge or person very happy. Just not me."

"_Because it's me doing the appointing?"_

"Yes."

"_Why?" _

"Because it wouldn't be an appointment based on merit.

"_Of course, it would be an appointment based on merit," she insisted with annoyance. "Why wouldn't it be? That's why I had Jim make the call."_

"Look, you don't owe me anything…."

"_This isn't about us," she interjected. If it were, she thought to herself, we wouldn't be having this conversation. "You deserve this—you've earned it. You were at the top of Bridges' list. If he were alive you would be his choice. Would you have accepted it from him?"_

"If it didn't mean upsetting my kids' world, then yes, I would."

"_Why should this be any different?"_

"It is different and you know it. I'm sorry, ma'am, I don't want it. I can't and won't accept."

"_Won't you think about it? Reconsider?" she pleaded._

"No!" he answered resolutely. "That is my final decision."

"_Why, Rod?" she persisted. "You know you want it. You know you deserve it, and that you can do it better than anybody else I might choose."_

He sighed heavily. "You know why. I couldn't live with myself. It's a question of honor."

"_Honor?" she repeated. "Or pride?"_

"Doesn't matter," he replied defensively. "The end result is the same. The bottom line is it would be…. Well, it would be too much inside baseball."

"_Okay," she said in resignation. "I obviously don't agree with your reasons for turning it down. But it is your decision." In truth, she was more relieved than she had a right to be. She would have hated it if he'd accepted. However, asking him was the right thing to do. It had to be his choice—not hers. "Speaking of baseball…."_

"What about it?"

"_I have to throw out the first pitch on opening day in Boston. While I've managed to secure the services of an excellent young catcher, I need a pitching coach. And I only want the best."_

He shook his head with an amused smile. "You're hopeless."

"_So you'll do it?"_

"Yeah," he said with a sigh. "I'll do it. When do you want to start?"

"_This weekend?" she asked hopefully._

"Is Mohammad coming to the mountain?" he questioned lightly in response.

"_Not unless you want your photograph spread across the front page of every major newspaper in the country."_

"Why do I get the feeling I'm going to be racking up frequent flier miles?"

"_Roderic?_"

"Yeah?" he said hoarsely, physically affected by the breathless quality in her voice.

"_I love my bear. I'm shocked you were able to find a Red Sox uniform in Georgia."_

He smirked. "I wasn't. Dutifully bought a Braves outfit and then ordered it on the internet. Grace couldn't believe that you wanted a 'boy' bear. She was most disappointed."

Mac chuckled. _"Some day she'll understand. By the way, his name is 'Mister.'"_

"You're crazy."

"_About you."_

"Go find yourself a new justice for the Supreme Court, Madam President."

"_Will you call me tonight?"_

"Yeah. It will have to be late. Tuesday is basketball and poker night."

"_Not strip poker, I hope?"_

"No, Mackenzie," he said huskily, "not strip poker. A bunch of middle aged men? That would not be a pretty sight. In fact, we don't even play for money—just pride. Although I'm going to catch hell tonight because of these phone calls. You are going to owe me big time."

"_Just add it to my tab."_

"Are you serious about this pitching thing?"

"_Yes. It terrifies me. I have to do it better than any of my predecessors."_

"Clinton and Bridges won't be a problem. But Mac, George W. Bush threw strikes and from the actual pitcher's mound."

"_Well, then that's what I'll have to do."_

"All right," he said with a hint of doubt in his voice. "Do you have a baseball glove? It will make things easier."

"_No," she admitted. "I'll get one."_

"I'll take care of it." He made a mental note to find out from Cooper if he had his catcher's mitt and mask with him.

"_Remember, I'm right handed."_

"Nobody's perfect," he teased. "Not even you. I'll talk with you tonight."

"_Okay."_

"Mackenzie?"

"_Yeah?" Hearing the thickness in his voice caused her breath to catch._

"I'm glad you made it home safe, and that everything worked out with the Predator."

"_I'm glad, too. Bye."_

"Bye."


	17. Play the Game Tonight

**17. Play the Game Tonight  
Friday, March 18, 2016**

"You look most un-presidential," Rod commented as he stood to greet Mackenzie, who was now dressed in jeans and a sweater, as she joined him in the West Sitting Hall. She'd been stuck on a conference call with the President of Iraq in the Situation Room when he'd arrived, and was immediately called away by another phone call the minute she came upstairs.

"Thanks," she replied with a matching smile. "You look pretty dishonorable yourself." He, too, was wearing jeans and a "Yale" baseball jersey with "Calloway" and a big number "1" stitched on the back. However, unlike most forty-six year old men, he looked as good wearing the jersey today as he had at twenty. Maybe even better, she thought.

He laughed at her words and the way she was checking him out. Of course, his eyes had strayed some, too. She was a beautiful and amazing woman. If their circumstances were different, he knew she would be impossible to resist.

"Love the name and number on the back," she added looking at him directly.

"Family tradition," he informed her. "Started it after Lauren died. Cooper's number '3' because he's older, and Becca number '4.' Although I can't get either one of them to wear their Boston jerseys any more." He shook his head. "Traitors."

Mac chuckled.

In truth, he had worn the jersey tonight because he thought it would be simpler to have the family connection between he and Cooper obvious to everyone from the start. There would be fewer complications and questions as to the nature of their relationship.

"Are you sure that you don't mind about tonight?" she asked with a heavy sigh. "I'd try to get out of it but…."

"That would defeat the purpose," he said finishing her sentence. He cocked his head and looked closely at her. "Are you okay?"

"A little tired," she admitted. "I'd much rather kick off my shoes and hang out up here with you than play hostess."

"I know," he told her with an understanding smile. For her to admit that she was at all tired meant she was exhausted. He took her hand and together they sat down on the nearest sofa. He brushed a few stray hairs back from her face. "You've had a long, hectic couple of weeks. While we can't skip this thing altogether, we can be a little late. Besides it's only for a few hours. They all work hard for you and the next several months are going to prove increasingly challenging for them and their families. They deserve a relaxed evening with you. It's good for morale. It will be fun. We'll play some games, eat lots of junk food that we'll regret in the morning, and I may even let you beat me at pinball. This was a great idea."

"You're right," she said with a smile. And he would be there with her, which made all the difference. "I wish I could take credit for tonight, but that honor belongs to my mother with an assist from your son." The two of them—probably under Nora's disapproving eye, had planned a crazy, very casual event for West Wing staff and their families. It had been on the schedule for weeks.

Rod shook his head. "I should have known Junior had a hand in this thing. He loves a party."

"My mother adores him—which isn't surprising considering she's always worshipped you."

"Kate is a shrewd woman," he teased.

"I can't argue with that," she told him. "Where is Cooper? I thought he'd be with you."

"He went to work out across the street and drop his stuff at the hotel."

"You know you're more than welcome to work out there anytime yourself." Both of them made it a priority to exercise at least five days a week.

"What are you going to do? Write me a note and pin it to my chest?" he joked. "'Dear Secret Service,'" he mimicked. "'Please let Mr. Calloway use the White House Athletic Center. Sincerely, Madam President.'"

"Oh, we're far more sophisticated than that," she assured him with laughing eyes. "You have clearance to go wherever you want in the complex."

"So that's why I was admitted through this evening without even showing identification. Is my photo taped up at all the entrances like a 'Wanted: Dead or Alive' poster?"

"Something like that," she chuckled. Already she felt better—refreshed.

He shook his head with a wry grin. "Aren't I special."

"Yes, you are," she threw back in similar good humor. "I bet you're also hungry because I know I'm starved."

"You know me too well," he told her. "Shall we, Madam President?" He gestured towards the stairs.

She nodded.

When they reached the middle landing of the Grand Staircase he said, "We're not going to be greeted with _Ruffles & Flourishes_ and _Hail to the Chief_, are we?"

"In every room," she replied cheekily.

All of the furniture and carpets had been removed from the State Floor, and it had been turned into a giant arcade with every game imaginable. The menu for the night was hamburgers and hot dogs, popcorn and pretzels, funnel cakes and cotton candy. The inevitable crash from tonight's sugar high would be severe, Mac suddenly realized. It was a good thing she'd insisted that, absent a major crisis, anyone not absolutely essential for tomorrow night's speech in Philadelphia should take the weekend off. There wouldn't be many free weekends—or much free time at all—as they counted down to November.

They made their way room to room, greeting staff, meeting family members, and introducing Rod as "Cooper's father, who was also an old friend and de facto presidential pitching coach." After a little junk food to boost the energy reserves, the serious game playing began. They each won two games at vintage Addams Family pinball. Rod took on all comers at Whac-a-Mole and survived, while Mac ruled the Ms. Pac-Man universe.

When Cooper showed up things got even more serious (and hysterical) as he challenged Rod on Guitar Hero and Dance Dance Revolution. Mac was impressed that father mostly managed to keep up with son. She suspected that they had done this before.

However, the high point of the night for Rod was when Cooper somehow convinced the usually reserved Mackenzie, and her equally aloof Chief of Staff, to sing karaoke duets to Queen's "We Are the Champions" and the old Sunny and Cher classic, "I Got You Babe." When they were finished and the hoots, laughter and applause had quieted down, he handed her a tall glass of Coke.

"Thanks," she said before taking a big gulp. "No diet?"

He shook his head. "Tonight you earned the hard stuff."

She leaned towards him and said, "How would you feel about ditching the upcoming movie in favor of quiet conversation?"

"Sounds like a plan," he whispered back.

XXXXXXXXXX

The East Room had been turned into a movie theater with comfortable couches, and as many giant beanbag chairs as would fit. While everyone got comfortable, Rod hung towards the back and then listened with pride as Mackenzie spoke to the group, thanking her staff for their dedication and hard work, and their families for their support and sacrifices.

"You were great," Rod whispered to her afterwards as the lights were turned off and the movie began. "Just the right touch."

They waited a few minutes and slipped into the Green Room and then the Cross and Entrance Halls. However, as Mac began to walk upstairs, Rod took her hand and led her downstairs instead.

"Where are we going?"

"We have work to do," he told her.

"Work? I thought I gave everybody a night off. You said it was good for morale."

"Their morale, not yours." He directed her to the right, through the Palm Room and out onto the West Colonnade.

"You weren't kidding," she said as she realized his intent when they turned the corner and headed towards her office.

"No," he agreed. "You said you wanted some ideas for the campaign. This is where we begin." He opened up the door and followed her inside.

"Look around," he told her, "and tell me what you see."

She was confused. "I don't have to look around. This is my office."

"Is it?" he questioned.

"Uh yeah," she said a little impatiently.

"Is it your rug?" he asked pointing down to the big Presidential Seal at the center of the room. "Was it made for you?" He didn't wait for an answer. "How about the books, furniture and paintings? Are they what you chose? Are they a reflection of you—your interests, your character?"

"Of course, not. They're Teddy's. Why should that matter?"

"Because they're Teddy's," he said matter of fact.

"I understand why you didn't rush to change things," he continued. "You made the right call. But he's been dead almost a year, which is more than enough time for you to pay your respects. You, Mackenzie Spencer Allen, are the President of the United States now—not Teddy Bridges. This is _your_ office. It has to be a reflection of _you_—not him. This is where your campaign originates, or where the buck stops, as old Truman was fond of saying. If you don't see yourself as the President, how can you expect that the nation will?"

Mac sat down to think. Others, including her mother, had suggested she make changes. She hadn't wanted to bother with such a seemingly trivial thing. Maybe it wasn't a trivial thing after all. Even in law school, he'd had a keen ability to assess people and situations. Change at this late date, however, would at the very least be viewed skeptically. "Won't it seem frivolous? Or arrogant?"

"It might to some," he replied taking a seat next to her. "But if you don't make the changes, it will appear like you don't expect to win, like you consider yourself only the temporary caretaker of this office instead of it's rightful holder. What's in here, other than what belongs to the White House, should be set aside for Bridge's library. He deserves that, and frankly, you do, too. And you could always pay for it with private funds. It doesn't have to be extravagant, Mackenzie. It simply has to be you.

"As for the arrogance? Of course, you're arrogant. Politicians and Presidents are by definition 'arrogant.'"

"Rod…"

"Mackenzie…" he replied meeting her gaze, not intimidated by her tone or the fire in her eyes. "Don't tell me you're not a politician because that is laughable."

"I guess it is," she reluctantly conceded. "The favorite refrain of every politician," she noted in irony.

"You shouldn't be afraid of that word, you know. Embrace it. Demonstrate that politics and government service is an honorable choice—an idealistic choice. Demand the best from yourself, those around you, those who lead with you and those who follow."

"'Ask not what your country can do for you…'" she mimicked.

"Something like that," he admitted with an amused chuckle. "It worked didn't it?"

"It certainly did. But Kennedy's accent was more distinct," she told him. "Seriously, I understand what you're saying, but there's much more to being President than politics and spouting ideology."

"Of course, there is. But don't ignore that aspect of it, or try and sweep it under the rug. Be a politician but define it on your terms. Raise the bar. Show people what a political leader should be. Because you are not bound by either political party, you have an opportunity to do and be something unique for this country—something amazing. You can reach people all across this nation—people who have turned their back on the entire process because they feel like they have no voice. You can give them that voice."

"You honestly believe that?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, I do," he replied softly as he rested a hand on her leg. "I think you believe it, too. I'm fairly certain that deep down you don't trust anyone more than yourself to do what must be done."

She looked at him sheepishly. "That really does smack of arrogance, doesn't it?"

"But that's the way it has to be," he assured her. "That's what we expect from our President. That is what allowed you to so brilliantly and courageously handle that submarine crises. It's what enabled you to get not only the Chinese to play ball and see things your way, but also the North Koreans. It's what saved more than a hundred lives. Lives that you, as Commander in Chief, hold a stewardship over."

"We were fortunate that everything fell into place."

"Those sailors—and this nation—were fortunate to have you as President," he corrected. "But there's so much more to you than confidence in your own abilities, Mackenzie. You know right from wrong, and are committed to choosing the right course—the decent and humane course. You are caring and compassionate. Above all, you are fair."

"Thank you," she replied quietly in a voice that was tinged with emotion as she saw the sincerity in his beautiful, soulful eyes. "Are you sure you won't quit your day job and manage me and my campaign instead?"

"Sorry," he said with a grin, "this is as political as I'm allowed to get—and only with you. But this is where everything begins. Here, in this office. This is where you must first make your mark."

"You're right," she finally acknowledged. However, in her heart she realized that it would never be solely her office again. If she were lucky enough to pull off a miracle in November, an important part of it would be shared with him. "But I have no idea what to put in its place. Interior design and decorating are not my strengths."

He chuckled. "Don't worry. There are thousands of artists who would give up their first born child to tackle this project, including two in my immediate family."

"Sydney and Becca?"

"Exactly."

"That's a great idea."

"It needs to be strong, intelligent, dynamic and beautiful. Just like you."

"Thank you," she said with a hint of a blush, because that was exactly how he made her feel, whether he was aware of it or not.

He shifted into a more relaxed, comfortable position. "There's something I've always wondered about," he told her. "What happened to you during that first speech to the nation, the day after Bridge's death? You stopped mid sentence and were obviously bothered by something."

"You were watching?"

He shrugged. "Yeah… I was proud of you."

"You were?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. I guess I thought you would hate me."

"I told you I got over that years ago."

"You did," she agreed. "I guess I didn't believe it at the time."

"Do you believe me now?"

"I think so."

"You know, that wasn't the first time I saw you give a speech in that chamber."

"I don't understand."

"I saw you speak on campaign finance reform during my confirmation hearings when you were a Congresswoman."

"Impossible," she said shaking her head skeptically.

"It's true," he insisted. "We finished early one day. I needed some air so I took a walk and ended up over by the House office buildings. On my way back I overheard some interns on their way to watch you. The next thing I knew I had talked my way into the gallery without an escort."

"I can't believe it…. Your presence there," she clarified with a smile. "Not that you were able to talk your way in."

He grinned but then said, "You were great then, but you're that much better now. You _were_ born to this, Mackenzie."

"You and my father," she commented while rolling her eyes. "Why didn't you say anything? Let me know you were there?"

He shrugged. "Lots of reasons. What would I have said? 'Hey, there…. Remember me? The man you didn't trust or love?'"

"I suppose," she replied. However, the acknowledgement cut her deeply. She wondered whether she would ever get over the pain of knowing what her past mistakes had cost. After a moment's thought she put a smile on her face and said, "Since we're telling tales, I have a confession to make."

"Oh yeah?"

"I saw you, too."

"What do you mean?"

"I was there that first morning you testified before the Judiciary Committee."

"What?"

She nodded. "I received a visit from the Senior Senator from Connecticut a few days before wanting my opinion of you."

"Uh oh!" he teased. "It's a wonder I made it out of committee."

"Funny, but completely off base," she informed him. "I told him you were brilliant, an independent thinker, and a man of honor. That he would be a fool not to vote for you."

"You did?"

"I may have believed at the time that you had turned your back on me and walked away, but that ultimately couldn't change my opinion of the man I knew you to be. You were amazing, by the way, completely blew them away."

"You didn't say anything either."

"I know," she said. "I guess you weren't the only chicken, and back then I was still blind to the truth."

"It was probably for the best. I wasn't ready for even friendship back then. I was still too numb," he admitted as their eyes met and held. Eventually he said, "You never did tell me what happened during your first speech as President?"

"The teleprompter suddenly shut down. I can't help but believe that it was no accident."

"Templeton?"

"Yeah. I can almost guarantee it."

"He's a politician in the worst definition of the word, and I'm sure it killed him to stand there and watch you walk away with his dream."

"He's a formidable adversary though. I have no idea how to beat him."

"He's a dinosaur, Mackenzie, and you terrify him."

"But to win I have to do something that's never been done before, as a woman and more important as an Independent."

"True," he acknowledged. "However, you are in a position no woman—or Independent—has ever been before. You _are_ the President. You _have_ the power. It's a new ballgame now. You get to set the agenda and make the rules. All you have to do is to get people to see you as you are, and you've made a great start."

"You really should have gone into politics yourself."

"Wasn't meant to be. I love my job," he insisted. "And there's something to be said for being isolated from political gamesmanship."

"Lucky you," she acknowledged with a sardonic expression. "I thought I left the game behind when I left Congress, and look at me now."

"You never left it—not really."

"Now you sound exactly like my father."

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "That's a huge compliment. Men don't come any better than Michael Allen—and Will Calloway. We were very lucky."

"You're right," she replied with a smile. "And Cooper and Rebecca are even luckier."

He smiled but didn't respond.

"What do you hear from your parents?" She had liked them instantly, particularly his mother.

"They are having a great experience. It's Dad's birthday tomorrow. Don't let me forget to call him in the morning. They're spending a few days in Nairobi and should have cellular service."

"When do they come home?"

"The end of the month."

"What would you think about inviting them to Boston for opening day—your grandmother, too, of course. I mean, you _will_ be there with me, won't you?"

"I don't know, Mac. I'm gone all next week and won't have spent a weekend at home in more than a month."

"Please? At least consider it? I need you there. I can't do it without my coach."

"Okay," he said with a surrendering sigh. "How can I refuse when you ask so sweetly?"

"You can't," she answered decisively with a big smile. "There is something else I need to talk with you about."

"Talk away."

"I hope it's okay, but I had a talk with Cooper the other day about us being friends. I wanted to make sure he was comfortable with it."

"I had a talk with him, too. In case you didn't know, he thinks you practically walk on water."

"Not compared to you," she told him warmly. "You are his hero. Mine, too. I'm just relieved he's 'cool' with us."

"He told me the same thing—'weird but cool.'" He stopped and turned serious.

Mac could feel the change in him.

"Mackenzie, are _you_ okay with it?" he asked her. "I hated how we left things last time I was here. I never meant to…"

She could see the internal conflict warring in his eyes and on his brow. She reached out and touched his arm. "Roderic, it's okay."

Seeking confirmation in her words, he looked into her eyes. "So you understand that anything more between us is impossible?"

"I understand that you believe it's impossible," she acknowledged. "I won't lie to you. I don't like it, or agree. I know how good we are together. But I won't ask for more. I'd much rather have you as a friend than not have you in my life."

"Thanks." He stood and offered her a hand. "It's getting late. We better get back upstairs before the movie ends."

Mac looked at her watch. "Good idea."

As they walked along the colonnade towards the Residence, she asked, "Are you and Cooper up for rowing on the Potomac in the morning before breakfast and baseball?"

He stopped and faced her. "Are you serious?"

"Perfectly. Unless you've forgotten how to stroke," she said provocatively.

"Oh… I think I remember just fine."


	18. It's Not As Easy As It Looks

**18. It's Not As Easy As It Looks  
Saturday, March 19, 2016**

As usual for a Saturday, Mac woke early. Her body clock never seemed to get the memo that weekend mornings at home were for sleeping and taking things slow. Her bedroom was located in the southwest corner on the second floor. On one side, she had a view of the Rose Garden, the West Wing and the Eisenhower Executive Office Building or EEOB, which along with the New Executive Office Building (NEOB), housed most of the White House offices and Executive Offices of the President, including the Vice President's office. On the other side, she had a limited view of the South Lawn and adjacent Mall through the thick magnolia trees Andrew Jackson had so long ago planted to honor his deceased wife, Rachel.

She understood now the grief and loneliness he must have felt coming to Washington alone and occupying this house without her. Of course, unlike Old Hickory, the hole in her heart was largely of her own making. "Roderic," she whispered aloud as she stared out into the darkness at the trees. It killed her to have him and yet not have him. But the alternative seemed equally unbearable.

She grabbed her robe and walked down the hall to the Yellow Room, one of four oval rooms in the White House (including her office). Used as a formal living room, it had a beautiful view of the Washington Monument and Jefferson Memorial, and led to the Truman Balcony. Why, she wondered, hadn't she trusted what she had witnessed in him time and time again, even from the earliest days of their relationship? She pulled back the drapes and gazed outside. Highlighted by frequent bolts of lightning, dark and ominous clouds blanketed the sky. So much for the day's plans! She'd had such hopes for a morning like their first morning on a river together, an experience that should have been her guide.

How could she have known at the time? But wasn't that his point? She should have known _him_, trusted _him_. Perhaps she would have if it hadn't been for her so-called friend, Mike Stanton. Mike: How could she have been so foolish? She should have seen what was going on—what he was hiding and just how biased he was towards Rod. Why hadn't she?

It was because of David. He was the reason. Without him she never would have listened to Mike. Not for long, anyway. David: the man to whom she'd naively and blindly entrusted her heart. She'd been so willing to give up everything to make him happy—to satisfy his needs and dreams. What had it got her? Except to teach her by painful experience to be personally cautious and afraid. Then again, where had that left her? Alone at forty-six?

"No," she again spoke aloud. "The clues had been obvious all along." The crucial differences that separated these two men from the man who rightfully had deserved her trust and her heart. The man, who unlike the others, had willingly put her needs ahead of his own. Why hadn't she recognized the truth when it would have made a difference? Now she was left with a relationship that, though wonderful, was only a fraction of what it could have been and should have been.

She looked at the clock on the wall behind her: 6:30 a.m. Would he be awake? They'd planned to meet an hour from now. She picked up the phone and requested an outside line before dialing his cell phone number from memory. There was no way after their phone conversation over the Supreme Court business that she would have the operator place this call.

She understood why he'd reacted like he had. In his shoes, her response likely would have been much the same, and probably worse. Why, however, had he turned her down immediately and with such decisiveness? He was as ambitious as anyone, and had to want the job. Why wouldn't he at least have given the matter serious thought? Of course, she was glad. She also felt selfish for feeling this way.

"_Calloway,"_ a groggy voice answered on the fourth ring.

"Allen," she mirrored in a cheerful tone. "You awake?"

"_I am now," he replied with a chuckle._

"Then you haven't looked out the window."

"_No, Mackenzie," he said indulgently, "I haven't looked out the window. Is everything where it's supposed to be?"_

"Very funny. It's raining—hard."

_He yawned. "What a shame. I guess we'll have to sleep in and practice baseball later under the West Colonnade where it's dry."_

"I'm not sure I can go back to sleep."

"_Then count sheep, read, watch a movie… or bug some foreign leader where it's the middle of the day."_

She laughed softly. "All right. I get the message. What time do you want breakfast?"

"_Are you planning on making a house call?" he teased. "Breakfast in bed. What's the occasion?"_

"Would you really want to deal with the consequences?" she asked rhetorically. "Although, doing so would probably give me a huge bump in my polling numbers as a domestic goddess. Maybe we could leak my favorite recipe for Eggs Benedict."

"_Heaven, help us all!"_

"Do you want to call me when you wake up?"

"_No," he replied. "We'll come over about 9:30 a.m. I should be able to get Junior out of bed by then. Will that work?"_

"Perfectly. What are you hungry for?"

"_Whatever the Chefs want to fix. Good bye, Mackenzie."_

"Bye," she said with a chuckle, knowing that for her, sleep was an impossibility. Maybe she should take his advice and call the British P.M. They had things to discuss and seemed to accomplish more on an informal, one to one basis.

XXXXXXXXXX

"I can't believe you were saved by the rain," Mac told Rod as the two of them and Cooper ate breakfast in the informal dining room.

"You don't think I remember how, do you? You forget what a quick study I am, and that I got to be pretty good at it," Rod answered.

"When was the last time you rowed?"

"With you," he replied while Cooper watched their exchange with curious interest.

She raised an eyebrow.

"How hard can it be?" Cooper asked. He had friends on the crew teams at Yale, and it didn't look that tough.

Rod and Mac looked at each other and laughed.

"What?"

"Trust me, son. It's not as easy as it looks."

"Your father says that now," Mac said. "But when we were in school he thought it would be a simple thing for a great athlete like himself. I kept telling him it wasn't that easy. He didn't believe me and was completely cocky about it. You should have seen the stunned look on his face when he first saw the boats. I thought he was going to have a heart attack. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared with his mouth wide open. 'This is what you row on?'" she mimicked.

"Hey," Rod protested. "I'm a big guy and those are long, narrow boats."

She smiled. "He actually did pretty well until he tried to sit down."

Rod put a hand over his eyes and ruefully shook his head.

"What happened?" Cooper asked eagerly.

"Well," Mac said with exaggerated emphasis, "he lost his balance trying to sit down in the boat. He almost tipped over, dropped both oars and came within inches of smacking his head on the dock. Then the sound of the oars hitting the water surprised him so much that he almost lost his balance again."

"You're making this up." Cooper could hardly contain himself, thinking this was just too good to be true of his normally controlled father.

"I'm not... I swear. I almost doubled over from laughing so hard. I couldn't help myself. He looked so funny… and the way he was clinging to the dock made it all the more hysterical." She began to laugh. Of course, what she would rather reminisce about is: How sexy his willingness to learn something because it was important to her made him. How cute he was when he managed to turn every innocuous rowing term into flirty innuendo. And how his confidence in himself, in her, and in their relationship, seemed to exist without any corresponding need to compete or control.

"That wasn't even the worst of it," Rod said with good humor. "While out on the water, I somehow lost my balance again and smacked my knee with an oar. Hurt like hell. I ended up with a bruise the size of a baseball."

"I forgot about that," Mac said with a sympathetic grimace. "You really were a good sport about the whole thing. You did pick it up incredibly fast. I couldn't believe how much you'd improved when we ran into each other out there after that stupid fight the day I got back from Europe. You even had that cast on your arm."

"That's right. I remember that day. I'd been so excited to have you…." He shook his head as the memories of that time came flooding back. "Well, it doesn't matter. Was a long time ago."

"Why did you choose to row that afternoon? Do you remember?"

Forgetting for a moment that they weren't alone, he returned her gaze and said, "I think that I must have been looking for inspiration… trying to figure out how to get you to trust me like the river. You were amazing to watch out there. You had total confidence in what you were doing, and seemingly paid no heed to where you were going, or what was behind you."

Mac didn't answer right away, but she also didn't look away.

Cooper, meanwhile, took a second helping of everything and tried to be inconspicuous. However, observing their interaction, he concluded that Aunt Alex must be right. There had to be more between them than the "friends" thing they'd been feeding him and everyone else. He was okay with it. She was great. His Dad obviously cared about her, and she seemed to like him a lot, too. But the whole thing was definitely weird: Weird because it was his Dad and his boss. Weird because she was the President of the United States. Weird to think about his Dad having a girlfriend, or being with someone who wasn't his Mom. But then, he couldn't remember his Dad with his Mom either, so maybe it wouldn't be that weird.

Finally, she said, "I'd had a lot of practice on that river while I was still a beginner when it came to relationships."

"I know," he replied. "Like I said, it was a long time ago."

Suddenly both of them remembered they weren't alone. They smiled at each other sheepishly and then Mac changed the subject. "Next week is the annual spring break trip, isn't it?" She looked across the table. "Cooper, did you decide to take some time off?"

"No, ma'am. I'm working."

"There's no reason you can't…."

Rod cut her off. "He's working, Mackenzie. That's his duty. Playtime will have to wait. He understands."

"Yes, sir," Cooper acknowledged.

"But what about the weekend?" Mac persisted.

"It's Easter next Sunday," Cooper reminded her. "And I get to be the Easter Bunny Monday morning, so I thought it would be easier to stay around."

"What?" his boss and his father asked at the same time with very surprised looks on their faces.

"Yeah," he told them. "Monday's the White House Easter Egg Roll and I get to be the bunny. Didn't I tell you?"

"No," they said simultaneously.

"How did that happen?" she asked.

"Well, it's tradition for a young staff member to dress up as the bunny. I thought it would be fun so I volunteered. I can't believe I forgot to tell you, Dad."

"What about your grandparents?" Rod asked him. "They expect you and Becca home for Easter."

"I know," he replied. "I told them about it. They thought it was cool."

"Does this change your plans?" Mac asked, hoping that maybe he would be in Washington next weekend, too.

"I have no idea," Rod answered. "I'll have to talk to Becca and my in-laws, I suppose."

"Can I be excused?" Cooper asked, looking at his watch.

"Football?" Rod questioned.

"Yes, sir—if it's okay."

Rod looked at Mackenzie. "Fine, with me."

"What about the weather?" she asked. "It's raining."

"That's the best time to play. You get all muddy. The field gets slippery and it's hard to keep your balance."

With eyes raised to heaven, Mac shook her head.

Rod, on the other hand, chuckled. "We need your help practicing baseball this afternoon."

"I know." Cooper nodded.

"Oh… call Papa before you go and wish him a happy birthday. Tell him, I'll give them a call shortly."

"Yes, sir," he told his Dad. "Thanks for breakfast, Mackenzie."

"You're welcome," she answered with a smile, pleased that finally he was beginning to see her as more than his boss. After he left, she turned to Rod, "So what are your plans for the rest of the morning?"

"I'd probably better go back to the hotel and get some work done. I've got a couple of cases I'd like to get a better handle on before leaving town tomorrow."

"I have some work to do on tonight's speech. Are you sure you won't change your mind and come?" She was speaking in Philadelphia early this evening, but planned on making it as quick a trip as possible. There would be no working the crowd tonight.

"Not tonight," he said.

"Will you at least have a late dinner with me afterwards?"

"That, I can do."

"You know, you could work here this morning?" she suggested.

"I could. But we were never very efficient when it came to working or studying together."

"No, we weren't," she acknowledged with a sigh. More than anything, she wished to be caught up in that wonderful, distracted frame of mind with him again.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Mac, you're still pushing it," Rod complained. "I know it's not as easy as it looks, but I never expected _you_ would throw like a girl," he said with a weary shake of his head. "You're not getting any zip on the ball—no pop."

She was playing catch with Cooper in the Rose Garden. It was still cloudy and damp, but the rain had ceased. Very quickly he'd learned just how much work they had ahead of them if she was going to pitch, rather than toss, the ball to the catcher on opening day.

"I do not throw like a girl," she insisted with a petulant nod.

"Well, then prove it to me," he said folding his arms. "Because I haven't seen it. You're not putting your body into it, and you're not getting the full range of motion. You're flipping or pushing it."

"I _am_ using my body."

"No, you're not," he said forcefully. "Do you realize how far you'll have to throw it? About sixty feet. Right now, you're at about twenty. And they'll probably insist that you do it wearing a Kevlar vest." He took a deep breath. "Mac, you're not listening either. I think you've forgotten how. I can't teach if you won't listen."

"Not listening?" she practically shouted, annoyed by his exasperatingly calm demeanor. "Are you kidding me? What do you think I've been doing the past hour? You're the one who's not paying attention. That, or you've forgotten how to do this." She put her hands, including the one that wore her new baseball glove, on her hips and glared at him. He'd been riding her non-stop and she'd had it. She'd done everything exactly like he said.

Rod sighed. This wasn't working. He would have to change tactics. Apparently she still did not take even constructive criticism well—particularly from those who knew her best. She continued to take it all personally and responded by going on the attack. Somehow he had to convince her that he was only trying to help. He needed her to channel all that tremendous energy she possessed in a positive direction. He had to get her in "competitive Mac" mode because that is where she was at her best. "Is there a video camera around?" he asked.

"A video camera?"

"A video camera," he repeated. "I need to show you what I'm talking about—what you're doing wrong."

"Is it really necessary?" she said impatiently. "Seems like a total waste of time."

"It's completely up to you," he told her with a shrug. "I'm not the first female President. I don't have to throw out the traditional first pitch, and do it during an election year. It's not me who will end up on YouTube, and the Daily Show and the Tonight Show, amongst others. I won't be seen and judged by millions of people."

Knowing he was right, she threw down her glove in frustration. "I can't do this," she told him. "It's a no-win situation. No matter what I do, I'm going to look like an idiot." She threw up her hands. "What was I thinking?"

He grinned and went to her. Picking up her glove, he handed it to her and said gently, "You _can_ do this. We'll just have to start over—start with the basics. You can't simply toss the ball, Mac. You have to throw it. There's a difference."

"You really think I can do this?" she asked in desperation.

"I really do." He looked at Cooper. "Go see if you can find a video camera. Maybe there's one in the communications bullpen… or I bet the White House photographers have a couple. And if you can't find one, we'll buy one." He turned back to Mackenzie. "It will help."

"You're the baseball boss," she conceded with a genuine smile.

"Don't you forget it," he smirked. Then another thought occurred to him. He yelled after Cooper. "Turn on your computer, son. I need access to the internet."

Cooper turned around and nodded before going inside. He was happy to get out of there. He'd witnessed her in a bad mood a few times, and had seen how people scurried to find cover. It was not fun. Fortunately, it had never been directed at him—not yet, anyway. But she apparently didn't intimidate his father at all. He was amazed at how unflinchingly Dad handled her. Not only that, but he seemed to be getting exactly what he wanted from her.

"The internet?" she questioned.

"Yeah," he told her. "I'm going to teach you the basic throwing motion, and then you and I are going to watch some pitching so you can see how it looks."

She tilted her head. "Are you sure about this?"

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

"Completely," she replied without hesitation. "It's my abilities, not yours, that are at issue here."

"You are Mackenzie Spencer Allen, President of the United States and leader of the free world. You've stared down the North Koreans and the United States Congress. No way is a little white ball going to get the best of you. After Boston people will no longer say, 'Remember when George W. threw that first pitch strike in the '01 Series?' They'll say, 'Remember when Mac Allen brought the heat? Now that was cool. She was one tough broad.'"

She laughed. "You're right. Game on, coach!"

With that, they set to work.

When Mackenzie discovered how much close physical contact was required for him to teach her how to throw correctly, she knew that this would be a game she would love forever. Pitching would also be a skill that she would undoubtedly develop very slowly, and only after lots of hands-on instruction that likely would need to be repeated every spring. After all, he was the one who'd told her, "It's not as easy as it looks!"


	19. Old Habits Die Hard

**19. Old Habits Die Hard**

**Saturday, March 19, 2016**

"How was your walk?" Mac asked as she met Rod a few yards inside the southeast gate. She'd called him upon her return from Philadelphia and discovered he was sitting on the steps at the Lincoln Memorial, looking across the reflecting pool towards the Capitol.

"Great," he said. "I never get tired of being out on the Mall, particularly at night."

"Weren't you freezing?" she asked shivering. The brisk, wet day had turned into a cold night. She'd planned to wait for him inside the East Wing entrance so she hadn't put on a coat. However, the desire for fresh air, or perhaps the need to spend as much time as possible with him, had propelled her outside.

"Not at all." He took off his jacket and helped her put it on.

"Thanks." Even in the dark the distinctive white double-H insignia on the sleeve and left front was visible. "Still wearing Helly Hansen, huh?" she commented as she remembered the boating gear he'd purchased for each of them all those years ago.

He shrugged. "Old habits die hard, I suppose."

"Well, I like it." If it were up to her, she would keep it. She lowered her head and subtly inhaled his distinctive scent, which lingered on the fabric. She relished feeling enfolded by him, and for now wearing his jacket was likely the best she would do. "What did you see tonight?" she asked as they began the short walk up East Executive Avenue, which separated the White House from the Treasury Department.

"Everything except the Capitol," he told her.

"You walked over to Jefferson, too?"

"And FDR. It was nice. Quiet and restful. The place felt deserted because of the weather."

"I can imagine. I would have loved to be out there with you."

"Then it would have been a zoo," he pointed out.

Mac shrugged with a raised eyebrow. "There is that…. Lately I've begun to fantasize about running away."

"What? And leave behind the entourage, the limousines, the fleet of Suburbans and cop cars, the ambulance, the press corps and the Commandos with heavy weaponry?"

"It really is absurd," she replied with an ironic chuckle.

"Yes, it is," he agreed. "You know," he said changing the subject, "as I was walking around the World War II Memorial earlier, I got thinking about our grandfathers and what that time must have been like for them. The time away, the sacrifice."

"It's so incredible that they served together." They had been shocked to discover while dating in law school that James MacKenzie Allen had been Gabriel Roderic Calloway's commander for two years on a PT boat in the Pacific. She recognized anew that it was one more thing that irrevocably bound them together.

"I know," he acknowledged. "Can you believe that this year will mark the 75th Anniversary of Pearl Harbor? I suppose you'll be there."

"I'm sure I will. Although whether as outgoing President or President-Elect remains to be seen," she added wryly while folding her arms.

Rod understood the gesture was meant to shield her from more than the evening's chill. It was also a way of combating the fear of failure that had, he suspected, haunted her all of her life. Reaching out to her, he stopped and put a hand along her shoulder. When she turned to face him, he did the same with the opposite arm. Looking down into her face, which was lit by the combination of a nearby street lamp and the portico lights, he told her, "You are going to win, Mackenzie. I have no doubts. But win or lose, James would be incredibly proud of you. So would Michael. So am I."

"Thank you," she said with a small sigh. "And Gabriel would be thrilled with you," she added softly while continuing to look in his eyes. She could gaze in them forever and never learn all there was to know about him.

Except for the short period while she was delivering her speech, she'd thought about him—longed for him—all evening. Suddenly she could no longer fight the urge to touch him. She leaned against him and slid her arms around his neck. His arms looped round her waist and as he held her, she laid her head on his chest where she could feel the steady rhythm of his heart. She momentarily enjoyed the pleasure of once again being in his embrace before the reality of what she was doing hit her in a panic. She immediately released her grip around his neck.

In response, he slackened his hold but kept his hands lightly on her waist.

"Sorry," she told him sheepishly with a slightly embarrassed face. "I guess I just needed a hug."

He grinned and sighed. Being treated as "Madam President" by everyone, close friends included, couldn't be easy. Even when surrounded by people, as she almost always was, she stood apart. Everyone looked_to_ her, and made demands _of_ her. Whom could she look to? Count on? He couldn't be everything she wanted or needed him to be, but perhaps he could be something.

Tucking his chin to match hers, he told her, "We all need hugs, Mackenzie."

Every day in her job was a formidable challenge, made even more difficult by the upcoming election. Sensing in her the burden and exhaustion, the loneliness and isolation which had come to define her life, he wrapped his arms around her, held her close and stroked her back until he could feel some of her tension dissipate. Then he lightly kissed her forehead and draped an arm around her shoulders. "Let's go inside. We can make dinner and you can tell me about tonight."

She nodded, feeling both cherished and bereft.

As they walked up the circular driveway she wondered how he maintained such an iron control. While playing baseball earlier, and as he held her now, she could feel his physical attraction and desire for her. Yet, he'd decided a relationship between them was impossible, and his resolve not to give into that need was unyielding. Instead he gave her the support and affection he gave his family. She couldn't understand it. They were both available and he had to know that she wanted him, too.

As he opened the door for her she asked, "Did Cooper call you? He was in a hurry to get out of here when we got back."

"He was meeting friends in Georgetown for a late movie and who knows what else," he replied following her into the East Wing.

"Making friends seems to come easy to him."

"It always has," Rod acknowledged. "He can get along and find common ground with just about anybody. As a result, he's never at a loss for friends. Being popular was never an issue with him. It's funny. But he really is like his godfather that way."

"And you," Mac told him as they climbed a few steps and entered the enclosed colonnade which housed the movie theater and separated the East Wing from the Residence.

"I suppose," he replied unconvinced.

"And Becca?"

"Well, growing up they were always a matched set, so she was as popular as her brother. But she's naturally quieter and prefers a smaller group of close friends to the crowds. Where he always has a hard time deciding whom to invite on spring break, she's brought the same friends for years."

"Has college changed their relationship?"

"Obviously on a day to day basis. But they continue to be close, which makes me very happy. Of course, I'm more happy that neither one of them seems to be in a hurry to get involved in a serious relationship."

Mac laughed. "Not anxious to become a grandpa?"

He shuddered. "And come face to face with my own mortality? Ten years would be soon enough, thank you very much. I'm still having a hard time with the adjustment that they are now adults."

"Good luck," she told him with a smile as they started upstairs. She had to admit she couldn't see him in the role of grandparent. He was too vibrant and much too sexy. Besides, he was only two months older, and if he was old enough then…. She, too, shuddered.

XXXXXXXXXX

When they reached the second floor, Mac removed his jacket from her shoulders and handed it to one of the ushers, who seemed to Rod to appear out of nowhere. He was both amazed and amused by the constant presence of people whose sole purpose was either to keep her comfortable, or keep her safe. Yet none of them could give her what she needed most. Of course, it was unfair for him to criticize when he couldn't do that either.

"Are you sure you don't want me to have them send something up from downstairs?"

"And miss out on seeing you in the kitchen?" he teased. "No way. Besides it will be like old times: You and I, and a mean omelet."

"Banana with peanut butter?" she asked, adding a silent wish that it could in fact be like old times between them.

"Well, I didn't want to sound presumptuous."

She laughed and the two of them quickly set to work in the family kitchen. As had been their habit, he took charge of the eggs and she focused on the fruit and toast, including a banana sliced with peanut butter for him. "How about eating in here?" she said handing him two plates filled with everything but omelet.

"Perfect." He slid the omelets on the offered plates and then set them down at the small table. While she grabbed the silverware, he opened the refrigerator. "Chocolate milk?" he asked with a knowing smile after surveying its contents.

"Please. I'll get the glasses."

"That's good because I have no idea where to find anything."

"You'll learn."

"I will, huh?" he playfully questioned while holding out a chair for her.

"Yes, you will," she answered definitively while taking the offered seat. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He poured them each a glass of chocolate milk.

"You're drinking chocolate, too?"

He shrugged. "Somewhere along the way I developed a taste for it. Cooper loved it as a small boy—still does, and little Grace and Sydney's twins want it with every meal. Little Jack, on the other hand, like Becca, will only drink 'white' milk."

"Somehow I get the feeling they've all got their Uncle Rod wrapped tightly around their little fingers."

He laughed. "I suppose they do—the little monsters. Considering my presence here," he added provocatively, "apparently they are not the only ones, Miss Early Morning Sunshine."

"I told you I needed a pitching coach," she insisted.

"That's an understatement, Madam President. We should have started months ago. You've got work to do the next two weeks. And if I hear you've been slacking, you are in big trouble because no pupil of mine is going to end up the butt of late night television jokes, or as the most popular video blooper on the internet."

She smiled and the two of them ate in silence for a few minutes until she asked in a sober tone, "Rod, what would you have done if I'd called you months ago after hiring Cooper?"

He put down his fork and looked at her. "Frankly, I don't know. I suppose we would have talked and argued like we did. Probably we would have ended up like we have. You were right. Our meeting was inevitable. I just hadn't faced it yet."

"Why not?"

He momentarily avoided the question by playing with his food.

His reaction surprised her. Given all that had transpired between them, she hadn't anticipated the question would be difficult for him.

Eventually he took a deep breath and faced her. "There are things about the past I don't like to remember."

"And I was one of those things?"

He nodded. "I suppose. Certainly, the way it ended between us, although I know it was meant to be. For what it's worth, I don't like to think about the hard times—the end, with Lauren either."

Perceiving that despite his protestations, he needed desperately to talk about Lauren, she put down her fork and pushed her mostly empty plate aside. "Tell me about her," she said.

"Mackenzie," he replied shaking his head, "I don't think that's…."

She reached over and covered one of his hands with her own. "I want to know more about her."

"Are you sure?" he asked. Knowing she regretted their breakup, he didn't want to hurt her by talking about his love for, and life with, another woman. "No," he said changing his mind. "It wouldn't be fair to you. I won't do that… I can't."

"I won't lie to you. This is not a conversation I'm looking forward to with pleasure. In fact, I'd prefer to be in a dentist chair for a root canal on every tooth. But it's a conversation we need to have. We can't pretend like she didn't exist. That you didn't—don't—love her."

"I don't want to hurt you. I've done that enough already."

"Forget about my feelings," she told him. "They don't matter. We're friends and you need to be able to talk about her. She was your wife, the mother of your children. She's an important part of all of your lives."

He closed his eyes and struggled with the decision. How could he do that to her, or himself? What did it matter? Lauren was gone. The past was over. It had nothing to do with the present, or their relationship today. "I can't," he said after a time, his voice ragged. "I just can't."

Mac felt rejected, like an outsider. She knew she had no right to feel this way. Is this how he felt years ago when she refused to acknowledge the chokehold her past had on her life and their relationship?

"Okay," she said finally before standing up and clearing their plates. It was apparent that both of them were finished with dinner, and she needed time to find her composure.

He remained seated, silently battling his own demons.

She rinsed everything off and put the milk away. Taking a deep breath and swallowing her pride and frustration, she went to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. When he turned his face to look up at her, she said softly, "I didn't mean to pry."

He smiled weakly. "I'm the one who's sorry. But I can't change what happened," he told her, his voice cracking with emotion. "I can't bring her back. I can't make up for my kids growing up without her. I can only focus on the here and now. Can you understand?"

"I can try." She sat back down next to him. "Would you at least answer a few questions for me?"

"Maybe," he said with a gentle look, knowing she was impossible to resist when she was open and her own formidable walls were down.

"How did you get over us so quickly? You not only fell in love again, you were married less than a year later."

"It didn't seem quick at the time," he assured her. "I struggled. It was two months before I could even think about us being over, and another month before I could do anything but wait for you. I wanted so badly for you to come to me, and for you to want what I wanted."

"What made the difference? Because it took me years, and even then…." She shrugged.

"Well, ultimately Lauren made the difference. But before that, you can thank my parents."

"Your parents?"

"Yeah," he said with a wry chuckle. "They finally had enough of my short temper, bad mood, and moping around. One night towards the end of February they were waiting at the condo when I got home from school. They sat me down and gave me an ultimatum: Make things right with you, or move on."

"You chose to move on," she said quietly as the significance of his decision sunk in.

"Mackenzie, what choice did I have? You'd made your feelings abundantly clear that last afternoon… and the night before when you rejected me. Wanted no part of my attempt to love you. The next day you chose Mike. Let me know that he was more important to you. You didn't trust me or love me enough to give me the benefit of the doubt, or even enough to want to listen."

"It wasn't like that," she protested. "Had I known…."

"Say I had come to you?" he interrupted. "What would have changed between us? Would you suddenly have trusted me? Confided in me? Admitted you loved me?" He paused and took a deep breath. "It wasn't a rash decision. I simply had no choice. I couldn't make you love me, or trust me. You were the only one who could make those choices. There was nothing else I could do to demonstrate to you the future I saw for us. I'd given you everything I knew how to give. Finally, I saw my parents were right. I had to move on. Look, I know this…." He didn't finish the thought.

"You know what?" she prompted.

He shook his head. "I've said enough."

"No," she persisted. "There's more. You know what? Tell me."

He saw the once familiar stubborn insistence written on her face. She would not let this go. Why must she do that? Put him in this position? _Fine_, he thought. He would tell her the truth. "Can't you see?" he pleaded. "I wouldn't change what happened between us, good or bad. There is only one thing in my past I would change. That is to have had more time with her—for myself, and especially for the twins. I'm sorry. That's the way I feel—the way I have to feel."

No assassin's bullet could injure her physically more than his words racked her soul. Suddenly it all became clear. His refusal to explore more than friendship with her wasn't primarily about their separate lives, or the complications created by their careers. A deeper, more intimate relationship was impossible for them because his heart lie somewhere else. He'd tried to spare her this knowledge. He'd been honest from the start about what he had to offer. She simply had refused to listen. Again, she was the instrument of her own sorrow. She wanted to curl up in a ball on the floor and die, or disappear into oblivion.

Mac resisted the urge to flee, and forced herself to look at him. Instantly she knew it was the right thing to do. The anguish in his eyes easily matched the pain in her heart. In everything that had happened between them the past two weeks, she'd thought primarily of herself: her wants and needs. She hadn't considered his needs. Now, no matter how badly she wanted to give in to her own wounded psyche, she couldn't. It would hurt him. He may not love her, but he cared. Didn't she owe him the same support he'd so graciously given her?

She reached out and stroked his cheek. "I won't sit her and tell you it doesn't tear me up to hear those things, or that I'm not jealous and living with a world of regrets. But I do understand. You wouldn't be the wonderful, honorable man you are if you didn't feel that way. Lauren was a very lucky woman."

"No, I was the lucky one. I only wish…." He sighed heavily before continuing, "She deserved more time with her children, and they needed more time with her."

Mac nodded. She could hear the underlying anger, grief and resentment in his voice. How unfair her untimely death must seem to him. "You know, I was surprised by how quickly you had them. When we talked about children, you were in no hurry." Hearing about his engagement and wedding had been tough enough, but learning about the twins so soon afterwards had emotionally leveled her.

"Lauren was six years older. She was ready for kids. I saw no reason to wait," he said with a shrug. "And as it turned out, we were fortunate to have them when we did. They don't have a lot of memories of her, but at least they have a few. If they'd been born much later, they wouldn't have any."

"I can't imagine having no memories of my mother," she replied.

"Can you see now why it's impossible for us to go back?" he begged. "It's not right for either of us. There's too much water under the bridge. We'll only continue to hurt each other. I don't want to do that to you. Mackenzie, if friendship is too hard, I…."

"Stop," she told him. "Don't take that away from us, too. I'm glad we're friends again. I enjoy being with you. That hasn't changed. I thought you enjoyed it, too."

"I do," he assured her. "I just feel…. You deserve so much more."

"You're stuck with me. I'm not letting you walk out again—even if it takes an Executive Order to keep you around."

He shook his head with a closed mouth smile. "No wonder the Founding Fathers were skeptical of what you president-types might try and get away with in your 'insolence of office.' If that's what you have in mind, next time you better pick a situation where the Constitution won't get in the way. Besides, given the current state of your pitching abilities you might want to try a bribe with me rather than extortion."

She laughed. Understanding his word play, she replied, "Let's hope I fare better than Hamlet. At least I'm not communing with spirits, although I hear this place is haunted by a number of prominent ghosts."

"Lincoln's not tormenting you?" he teased.

"Not so far," she answered with a wide smile. "Although I'm sure Bridges has tried a few times. As for the bribe, got anyone who needs a pardon?"

"A 'get out of jail free' card, huh? Definitely something to keep in mind."

"A very useful tool," she agreed. "If you're not too tired, let's go upstairs," she suggested. "You shouldn't be, considering how late you slept. We can relax and enjoy the view. I'll tell you about tonight's speech. Afterwards you can tell me about the spring break plans, and whether you can squeeze me in next weekend. You know I desperately need the help."

"Yes, you do," he said with a grin, happy to be back on an easy footing with her. He stood, again held her chair, and followed her up to the Solarium.

Thanks to his goofy son, he _would_ be in town at least part of the next weekend. Only this time, apparently an entourage would be coming with him. So far the women in his family had been suspiciously quiet about her. He'd expected to be bombarded by questions and advice after his conversation with Alex a week ago. He sighed. It was likely the calm before the storm, or more accurately, the eye of the hurricane. Then there was Becca and his in-laws.


	20. Cause and Effect

**20. Cause and Effect**

**March 19, 2016**

"You don't have to do this, you know?" Mac said to Rod as they entered the West Wing. They had remained up in the Solarium only long enough for her to realize that what she really wanted to talk with him about was Justice Jackson's funeral and the Supreme Court. They hadn't spoken at all on the way down. He seemed to be as caught up in his own thoughts as she felt.

He looked at her as they turned the corner and headed towards her office. "It's completely up to you. If you don't really want to talk, fine." If coming down here were an excuse—a way to create emotional distance after their earlier conversation, he'd get out of her hair. He didn't need to be coddled.

There was a quality in his voice she didn't understand. She was trying to be considerate and yet it sounded as if she'd offended him somehow. She stopped walking and faced him. "It's not that…. It's late. You have an early…."

"Mac," he firmly interjected, "do you want to talk, or don't you? It's that simple. If you do, there's no place I'd rather be. If you don't," he shrugged, "well, I'll say 'goodnight.'"

She was relieved that as he spoke his expression and tone changed from impatience to amusement. She gave him a modest smile and said quietly, "I want you to stay."

He cocked his head and winked at her. "Then let's get to it. See, that wasn't so hard," he teased.

She couldn't come up with a suitable retort, so instead she rolled her eyes and continued down the hall with him laughingly trailing behind.

As they entered her office area, she suddenly felt nervous. Like she was a teenager again caught up in that awkward first stage of a potential relationship with a boy she really liked. Should she sit first and hope he sat next to her? Or stall and find a task to occupy her until he sat down? What if he said nothing? Or she couldn't read his body language? What then? Should she sit next to him? Across from him? She hadn't felt this way since the early days of their relationship in law school. _Stop being so stupid!_ She silently chastised. _All you are is friends._ Nevertheless, she bought a little time by pretending to study something on Cooper's desk.

Last night when they'd escaped here from the staff party wasn't this hard, she told herself. What had changed since then? The question was ridiculously rhetorical. She knew far too well what had changed: She hadn't really understood about Lauren then. Hadn't recognized the hold she had on him. But honestly how could that be? It had been thirteen years. Thirteen years! Hadn't he repeatedly told her the past was done and buried? That his focus was on the present? So which was the truth? She sighed. Of course, none of it was remotely helpful in trying to figure out where to sit. Despite his settled perception of the nature of their relationship, his earlier embrace and forehead kiss were no help in that regard either. And all of it was keeping her focus from where it should be: on her job.

Justice Jackson's funeral was two days away. While the television audience likely would be small, every important government figure would be in the audience—Republican and Democrat alike, including Templeton. At least he wouldn't control the teleprompter in the Cathedral. She could, however, picture him trying to shanghai it, or attempting to sabotage her in other ways. Rod was right. He is a dinosaur—hopefully on the verge of extinction. Was that conversation only last night? So much had transpired. Regardless of what else happened with the election, she could not let that T-Rex win. She didn't respect him enough to think of him as a velociraptor. How did _Jurassic Park_ get into this? Inwardly she rolled her eyes at herself.

Although the funeral would be apolitical (at least in theory), this would be a critical moment in her bid for reelection. But the speech was going nowhere. She hated every idea her staff had come up with, including the draft that sat on her desk in her private study. Not that she had any better ideas. Her mind was completely blocked. This eulogy would set the tone for the nomination process that lie ahead where her political rivals on both sides of the aisle would be gunning for her so her pick had to be the right one.

She likely would serve as president for only twenty-one months. If so, this new justice could well be her legacy—aside from the whole "first woman" crap, which continued to follow her and increasingly haunt her. Undoubtedly it would come up again when she threw that damn baseball! How could such a little object feel like a huge albatross?

From across the desk, Rod witnessed a host of warring emotions play across her face as her eyes, like lasers, burned holes in the piece of paper she was fixated on. But unless it contained a riddle for ridding the world of hunger, pestilence, war and disease, she hadn't a clue what was on it. He had to be at least partially responsible. What he'd told her about Lauren and his children deserving more time had cut her. He hated it. But it was the truth. He loved his wife, and he would have gladly given up his own life if it meant she could have more time with their children. The twins desperately needed her love and guidance—then and now, particularly Rebecca. Although he tried his best, he was a poor substitute. _It's over_, he silently chided. _Why torture yourself with what you cannot change?_ He forced his focus back to Mackenzie, who continued to grip that paper tightly while her mind obviously remained elsewhere. Something more than his failings had to be weighing on her. _Only about a million things_, he reminded himself.

Why must she internalize everything? He thought she'd changed—learned to open up. It certainly had seemed that way. Was the unrelenting pressure of literally carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders finally getting to her? Didn't stress often lead to old habits resurfacing? Is that what it was? Or was it all somehow jumbled up together in the recesses of her very formidable mind? If so, he couldn't blame her. Not with all that was expected of her, all the demands placed on her. He hadn't exactly helped matters either. It was killing him to see the hurt in her eyes and know he was responsible. Maybe he should just walk away. It would be better for her if he did. Then she could find someone who could give her what he could not. In truth, however, he was too selfish to walk away unless she told him to go.

From the day they'd met, he'd enjoyed being around her, talking to her, laughing and playing with her. The passage of time and twenty years of silence had not altered that reality. She was still the most fascinating person he'd ever known. If asked to describe her in a single word, he would choose "extreme." Nothing about her was ordinary or mundane. Everything about her was greater—somehow more. She was extreme: Her intelligence, physical stature and beauty. Her strength and stubborness. Her discipline and drive for perfection. Her compassionate heart and the sensitive soul she barely tolerated. She challenged him. She exasperated him at times. She moved him. He could spend every minute of every day with her and never be bored. She was right. They were good for each other in so many ways. If they'd only just met and their lives and careers were different, would they be more than friends? But they didn't just meet. They had a past together, and there was too much water under their bridge. On top of that, their lives and jobs were in direct conflict. Fate had ordained a different road for them. That was it. There was no going back, and no use in pondering "what if."

He silently watched her for a minute or two before gently interrupting, "Mackenzie?"

Nothing. No response.

"Mac?" he said a little louder.

Nothing. It was as if her mind and body were occupying two completely different dimensions.

"Madam President?"

He grinned when she immediately looked up, a totally blank look on her face.

"Huh?"

"Does that paper hold the secret to world peace?"

"What?"

"The piece of paper you're clutching like a life preserver. Important?"

She looked down at the now wrinkled paper gripped tightly in her hands. It appeared to be Monday's public schedule. Relaxing, she put it back on the desk, and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry," she told him. "It's nothing. Just some information I had Cooper look up for me… on uh… Thailand—for next month's trip."

"Sure," he replied.

Seeing the amusement in his eyes and the smug look he couldn't quite swallow brought back the recognition of how easily he could read her. It had been like that with him from the start. At twenty-five she had found it unsettling. Now, however, it was somehow both a comfort and a relief. She had no image to maintain with him, and it would be pointless even to try.

"When's the funeral?" he asked.

"Justice Jackson's?"

"Unless someone else has died that I don't know about."

She smiled, his gentle tease bringing her focus completely back to the present. "Tuesday." She sighed. "I wish you were going to be there."

"After forty-eight hours with Becca and her friends, I'll likely wish I was there, too."

"I feel like Daniel about to face the den of hungry lions."

"David confronting Goliath?"

"The children of Israel caught between the Red Sea and Pharaoh? All of the above."

He chuckled. "Things turned out pretty well for the good guys in all of those scenarios."

"I should be so lucky," she quipped.

"You will. Come on," he told her stepping around to the other side of his son's desk and placing a hand on her shoulder. "You can show me that draft of the eulogy, and anything else."

XXXXXXXX

As they turned on the lamps in her office Mac asked, "Would you mind going over the list of potential nominees? You know so much more about the candidates than I do." She heard the slightest hesitation in his voice before he replied, "If that's what you want." She turned and searched out his eyes. She needed his help, but she wouldn't go through with it unless he was comfortable.

Rod saw the concern in her eyes. He owed his colleagues a duty of loyalty. However, she—and their friendship—came first. She would not betray his confidence with anyone, just as he would never betray hers. "Go get the list," he told her with a gentle definitiveness.

"Thanks," she said before retrieving Teddy's short list from a locked desk drawer in her adjacent private study.

She would create her own list, but it was a place to start. She would have a lengthy conversation with Carl about it, and several more talks with Jim. But there was nobody she trusted more than the man indulgently waiting for her in the other room. The man, who so deserving of the job himself, had told her "No."

When she came back he was on the phone.

"Where are you?" he asked. "Good," he said a few seconds later. "Be careful. Call me when you get there."

Not wanting to interfere with his private conversation, Mac sat on the opposite couch. As she looked across at him, it occurred to her that this would be a much better place to observe his unspoken reactions to the names on the list—particularly the one at the top. She knew he hadn't believed her when she mentioned it earlier in the week.

"I'm still at the White House," he said glancing at Mackenzie. "Very funny, young lady, although it's really none of your business."

He had to be speaking with Becca. They'd spoken often about her, but this was the first time she'd observed any direct contact between father and daughter. She couldn't help but want to be a part of it. He was the best father: openly affectionate and communicative, playful and principled, caring and supportive, interested and involved. Yet he recognized they must learn to be autonomous and be given room to grow.

"Yeah, I get in at eight. You're picking me up, right?" He sighed. "I know it's early, kiddo. If you'd rather not go to the islands, the weather will be milder and water temperature much colder, but that works for me. It's perfect for golf or fishing…. Not as sorry as I am. The token male stuck with a bunch of hormone-driven shopaholics! It's torturous!"

Mac smiled when he winked at her. She would love to meet Becca and to witness their relationship in person. With both of them he was at once teasing and affectionate. And yet, there was something in his interaction with her that wasn't present with Cooper. Was it merely a question of gender? That she was Daddy's little girl? Or something else?

"I love you, too…. No speeding!" He hung up the cell phone and returned it to his pocket.

"Becca?" Mac asked.

He nodded with a smile. "They're driving down to Florida to meet me."

"It's late. Are they getting close?"

"A little over an hour."

"That's good," she replied. "Here's the list."

He examined it and was shocked to find that his name honestly was at the top, and that this was Bridges' list. It had to be. Judge Henry Rodriguez, whose name was also on the list, had been killed in an automobile accident more than a year ago.

Mac saw his eyes widen in surprise as he looked over the list. Recognition came next along with the knowledge that if Bridges were alive—if she weren't the President—he'd likely be sitting in this office for an entirely different reason. Now that he understood she had Jim call him based on merit alone, would he change his mind if the offer were to be made again? Didn't she owe it to him to find out? She leaned forwards and with her elbows resting on top of her knees, said quietly, "Rod…."

He looked up from the list and found her gazing at him intently.

When their eyes locked, she told him, "Nothing has changed since Wednesday. The name at the top of the list is still the one I…."

He cut her off. "Leave it, Madam President." To emphasize the finality of his decision he hastily found a pen on Cooper's desk and physically crossed out his name.

Afterwards, she reluctantly accepted the revised list. But she saw the longing in his eyes before he again sat down opposite her, his own elbows across his thighs and his focus on the carpet. Her heart went out to him, yet she was confused. If he felt this way, why had he summarily rejected her offer—not once, but twice? She was missing something. However, this obviously was not the time to go into it. After a moment's hesitation she asked tentatively with a small smile, "Do you hate me?"

He looked up into her face. "No," he assured her. "I just can't be what you want me to be. I wish that I could."

Momentarily his words cut her. What he said applied to more than his rejection of the Supreme Court nomination. She could feel his gaze upon her, waiting for her reaction. She sensed that the possibility that he had caused her pain was weighing heavily on him. She moved to where he sat. "I admit that as President I would feel proud and satisfied to have you as my nominee. But I mostly want it for you. You've earned it."

Turning to face her more directly, he said, "Mackenzie, I…."

Despite the apparent finality of his choice, there was no mistaking the conflict raging within him. Instinctively she put a finger to his lips and quieted him. "I understand your reasoning for turning me down. Yes, it makes my job more difficult. But it makes my life better and easier because now I can take horrible advantage of you by making you be my pitching coach, Privy Council…. Secretary of Hugs."

He smiled. "Secretary of Hugs, huh? That's original." He paused before adding, "Well, I serve at the pleasure of the President."

"And it is a pleasure," she said as they continued to lock eyes. It was pure bliss being wrapped up tightly in his arms. If only she had the freedom to put herself there now. _You don't_, she sternly reminded herself. "Would you do me a favor? Help me pick the second best man or woman for the job."

He nodded. "Let's look at that list again."

Together they went through the list name by name, talking about the strengths and weaknesses, ideology and abilities of his colleagues. She was amazed at the depth and breadth of his knowledge. As they finished with the last one, she said, "This isn't going to cut it—or even be much help. There's only a couple of names that are even possibilities for me."

"I know."

"Rod, you know me and you know the legal community, including a majority of your colleagues on the district and appellate courts. Who would you consider?"

"I tell you what. You put a list together and then if you want my opinion, I'll give it to you. And if at that point I think you're missing somebody, I'll tell you."

"Separation of Powers again?" she asked lightly, only in this instance she recognized that there were, in fact, constitutional implications to their discussion.

He nodded. "Basically. This is an executive function and _you_ are the Executive."

"I understand."

"How far into the process are you?"

"Not far. Although I'm sure every interest group, both sides of the Judiciary Committee and my people are already working like little beavers to compile their own lists, and that only the appearance of public decency is keeping them from jumping me before the funeral. I've got to get ahead of the game—and stay ahead of the game." She sighed. "Well, I've got a lot to learn. I only spent four years in Congress and no time at all in the Senate. Afterwards I was removed and my focus primarily on foreign policy. Let's face it, Bridges didn't let me get within a hundred miles of my capitol office when I was vice-president."

"He was a fool," he replied catching her eye.

"I agree," she admitted with a slight smile. "He left me at a huge disadvantage with handling things on the Hill. And lower court judicial nominations haven't been that high on my list of priorities—not with everything else. I'm a rookie in this game."

"How could they be? Frankly, I'd be worried if they had."

"Thanks." It struck her once again how he made her feel like she could accomplish anything; and that it had always been like this with him. "You have personal experience with this whole mess. What's it really like in the trenches?"

He replied with a sardonic chuckle.

"That bad, huh? And you're extraordinary. How bad must it be for mere mortals?"

Wearing a wry grin, he shook his head. "I'm nothing of the sort and you know it. I was an expedient and sympathetic choice in a time of rough political waters. But there's no question that partisan politics and special interest groups have made judicial confirmation a battle between junkyard dogs fighting to the death over the last scrap of food."

"Is it still that bad?"

"In general, it's probably a little better now. But this is different. This is…."

"A Supreme Court nominee who will be a likely swing vote, during an election year, with an Independent President." She shook her head. "You know what this is? It's the perfect storm of politics."

"Yes, it is," he soberly agreed. "You've got to call a near perfect game to win."

"I know," she sighed. "Do you know what worries me most about this whole thing? I'm not sure if I can trust my own people to give me objective information and then support my choice. A majority of my staff are still Bridges' people. They are hard working and seem loyal, but ideologically most of them view the world like he did. The only nominee the two of us would likely ever agree on would be you."

"How surreal that would have been," he thoughtfully acknowledged. "You as Bridges' Vice-President, and me as his Supreme Court nominee…."

"I know. Makes you wonder if it wasn't inevitable that we would meet again." Of course, she was grateful they hadn't met under those circumstances for exactly the same reason she was happy he'd turned down the nomination from her.

Her words brought him out of his reverie. Was she right? Was it fate and not coincidence that brought them to where they were now? Not that it mattered.

Neither of them spoke for a time. Until finally she said, "You know how the Senate looks. The Democrats have one additional member on Judiciary and one in the full Senate. How am I going to get any nominee through that stalemate when neither party has any incentive to work with me, and every motivation to work against me?"

"Do what you did with the issue of campaign finance reform all those years ago. Force them into taking action."

"You think I should resign?" she teased.

He laughed. "That would definitely get their attention. What I was actually suggesting was that you pick a team on this one. It may take some persuading, and definitely some consultation on who the nominee should be, but I'm confident you can get either party to play along considering what's at stake." He thought through the scenario for a moment. "But you'll still be forced into picking somewhat of a moderate. I know you'd like to hit a grand slam with this nomination, but Mac don't lose sight of the fact that all you need is a base hit here to score: ten aye's in committee, and fifty-one on the Senate floor."

"But less than seventy-five votes in favor of confirmation is a hollow victory at best."

"That's true under ordinary circumstances. But you said so yourself, there is nothing ordinary here."

"So what your saying is that the choice becomes who is confirmable, and not whom I believe is the most qualified," she said in a dry, sardonic tone.

"At the very least it will be a balancing act," he conceded. "Or…."

"Or what?"

"You say, 'to hell with it!' And, regardless of the personal risk to you politically, nominate who you believe is the right choice for the nation and the Court."

He put a hand on her leg and when he had her complete attention, told her, "If you decide not to choose the easy path, take a hard look at the eight current justices—who they are, what they believe, and what role they play on the Court. Look beneath the surface and behind their decisions. Next consider what critical issues the Court will likely decide in the next fifteen to twenty years. Then make your choice based on what is right for the country and what kind of justice the Court needs to discharge its duties in accordance with that vision."

She let his words take root in her mind for a long moment. "That's what you want me to do, isn't it? But if I fail and Templeton wins, is that a better result for the country's future? I don't know if I want to risk that…. I know he'll more than likely win anyway, but do I want to hand him the election because of my unwillingness to compromise? I don't think I do." She paused to consider her options. "What if I choose the easier road but without joining up with one side or the other?"

"You know what to do."

"Focus on Judiciary?"

He nodded. "If you make it out of there by more than three votes or so, you'll survive the full Senate. Figure out who your potential allies are on the committee and give up what is necessary to ensure their support. And you'll have to make nice with the leadership—I'm talking about you personally, not your people, in order to get it done before the summer recess. Also you may want to compare the roll call votes of lower court judges recently confirmed by the Senate who were Bridges' nominees with any nominees you've had confirmed."

"In other words, it's a gauntlet whichever path I choose." She sighed deeply. "Why did the man have to die now? Honestly, this is the last thing I needed!"

He chuckled. "It's not rocket science, Mac. It's all about who is working and playing well with others like the good little boys and girls envisioned by our venerable Founding Fathers, and who is in need of a good, old-fashioned spanking."

As he intended, she laughed. "'Speak softly but carry a big stick?'"

"Or a very large pork barrel," he replied.

"Of course," she added in a very dry tone, "the Founding Fathers only envisioned 'good little boys' working and playing in the Senate."

He cocked his head towards the painting above the fireplace. "Is that right, George?" He cupped a hand to the back of his ear, pretending to listen. "What's that? It took some time, but Mackenzie Spencer Allen was worth waiting for? I think so, too."

Mac shook her head with a grin as she remembered a conversation with Cooper during his interview. They were so much alike. She adored them both. "You know, during my interview with your son we talked about that painting. I told him that often I look up from my desk and feel old George looking down on me. Do you know what his response was?"

"I'm afraid to ask."

"He wondered if it was 'freaky' having the Father of our Country watch my every move."

Rod laughed. "He went through a stage as a little boy where he was obsessed with the idea of ghosts. I don't think he's ever completely outgrown it."

She smiled. "No wonder he wanted to work here, and why he keeps suggesting that I someday break tradition by haunting Air Force One."

"Well, what did you expect given his fascination with…."

"Planes, trains, automobiles… and boats?" She shook her head with a smile. "Boys and their toys."

"Guilty as charged," he conceded. "Now, where's that speech?"

"On the desk in my study," she answered and began to stand.

He reached a hand out to her. "I'll get it."

She sat back down. "I think it's on the right side on top of a stack of papers. If not, it's in the top drawer."

He nodded and walked into the adjacent room.

"Yell if you can't find it," she called after him. She didn't think her desk was too cluttered. She hoped it wasn't. According to Cooper, he was still a neat freak, whereas growing up she'd frequently operated on the principle that "a clean room or desk was the sign of an empty brain." Her mother hadn't been particularly fond of that expression.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mac heard the door shut and looked up. Her desk must have been fairly clean because it only took him a minute to return, his head buried in the speech.

Continuing to read, he sat down next to her, an intense yet emotionless look on his face.

When he was finished she asked, "Well?"

"Uh…. This is a draft, right? An early draft?"

She smiled at his very sweet attempt to be tactful and positive. "I know. It's awful. Don't worry about offending me. I didn't write it. Not that I could have done any better. I can't seem to get a handle on it."

"Well, it does read kind of like a long, boring obituary."

Mac took the speech from him and looked through it again quickly. "That's being kind," she said with a groan. "It's a laundry list of 'then he did this and next he did that," she mimicked. In frustration she cast it aside.

"You know," he told her thoughtfully, "a Biblical hero is not who you need to be when you step up to that podium on Tuesday."

"What do you mean?"

"Mark Antony. He's the one you should model when you deliver this speech."

"'Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him?'" she quipped, quoting from memory Shakespeare's words in _Julius Caesar_.

One wonderful and lasting thing from their earlier relationship that had remained with her was an increased awareness and appreciation of literature and historical rhetoric. Word play was a powerful tool for effective and persuasive communication. His grandparents had recognized that truth early and had taught him well, just as he had unknowingly taught her.

"Exactly. This could be a watershed for you in terms of legitimacy."

"I know," she sighed. "I can't screw it up, or worse come off as hypocritical."

"Do you know what I think? I think you're trying too hard. Everyone knows you and Marshall Jackson interpret the world in very different ways. You can't pretend that isn't the case by running down his life's history and highlighting his perceived accomplishments without making any value-based judgments as to his choices and beliefs."

"That's why this speech has me so worked up. How can I publicly stand up there and eulogize a man whose views on many critical issues I find unreasonable, unworkable and archaic?"

"So don't."

She sighed. Her communications staff, particularly Vince, was going to hate her. "What would you do?"

He shifted to face her more directly, placing an arm along the top of the sofa. "Pay tribute to the man by honoring the Constitution and the system of government that both of you (and hopefully everyone in that room) believe in so strongly. Honor his commitment to public service—and he was a dedicated, tireless civil servant—with a rally cry that we remember our origins: who we are as a people and who the framers of our government meant us to be. Remind them that the responsibility to uphold the Constitution does not belong only to one branch of government, but to all three working separate and together; that adherence to the rule of law requires equal participation and dedication from all who serve; and that civic virtue must win out against self-interest for our government to function as it must."

As he spoke an amused, mysterious smile appeared on her face that confused him. "What? You think I'm messing with you? I'm not. I'm telling you straight up how I see it."

"I know, and you're right. It's the perfect approach," she said with a quiet soberness without changing her expression.

"Then why are you looking at me like that?" he asked with a creased brow.

She scooted over next to him and ran her fingers through the hair on his forehead. If he didn't like the contact, he could move away. She needed to touch him. She was relieved that he didn't flinch or back away. Looking into his incredible eyes, she told him quietly, "Because you have no idea how good you are. I don't mean smart, wise, successful or even cool in Cooper-speak, although you're all those things. I mean good."

"Mackenzie, I'm not…." he said huskily while fighting to maintain normal respiration due to her nearness and the gentle, rhythmic feel of her fingers against his skin.

She ignored his protest and continued, "Do you know why I had no choice but to hire Cooper?"

"No."

"He sat where you're sitting now and in response to a question told me that we have a 'duty to be a force for good in the world, and an instrument of change. That this is who we are as a people, and what we must be.' Sound familiar?" she teased.

"I can't take…." He shook his head.

"Rod, he is a nineteen year-old boy who is incredibly bright, and comes from a wealthy, supportive, and loving family. He's had the world handed to him. You would expect he would be spoiled, arrogant and self-centered. He's not. He gets it. He knows what life should be about. He's caring and considerate. Underneath the playfulness and behind the obsession with fun, girls, playing ball, ghosts and cool modes of transportation, he understands that where much is given, much is required. And it's because of you. I know Becca must be the same."

"It's not… I had…."

"No," she insisted. "It is you. I know that… because I know _you_. He is _your_ son. He learned from _you_. And he is so very much like you."

Her gaze was so intent and her voice so soft that it was impossible for him to do anything but look into her beautiful face, until it hit him just how close he was to crossing a line with her; and that was something he had no right to do. When he could find his voice he told her, "I think you'll have to write the eulogy yourself. Your staff's not going to have the insight or maturity to do it."

His words brought her back to earth. And he liked to call _her_ stubborn! _How ironic_, she thought with a deep breath before flashing him another smile. "Well then, you'll have to help me. You will have your phone and computer with you tomorrow and Monday, won't you?"

"I will now," he answered with a sigh.

"Are you sure you don't want to give the speech yourself? Pinch hit for me?"

He grinned. "I tell you what. I'll send the girls to the spa for the day and fly up that morning. It will have to be a day-trip, but I'll be there. I should be there anyway. Despite any ideological differences between us, Marshall Jackson was a good man—a true scholar and a gentleman. He graciously took me to lunch after my confirmation without any reason for doing so, and gave me some very helpful advice. Over the years whenever our paths have crossed he's acted much the same."

"I'd love it if you were there. But you don't have to…. I'll be okay."

"You'll be more than okay. But I'm coming."

"I'll save a seat for you."

He nodded. "If you're free for lunch afterwards, I could probably make it work."

"I'll make myself free."

He yawned and looked at his watch. "I better take off or I won't be able to stay awake at the helm tomorrow afternoon."

"The helm? You'll be on a boat?"

"Going from Jacksonville to the Bahamas. Changed our plans a few days ago. Thought something different would be fun for the girls. And I've been itching to get out on the water for weeks."

"'I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky; and all I ask is a tall ship and a star to sail her by,'" she quoted with a smile. Over the years she'd come to understand Masefield's musings and why Rod found such peace, perspective and contentment on or around the open water. She could almost feel the gentle ocean breeze and taste the salted air. She sighed. If only it was possible to go with him.

He sighed, too, because she remembered.

With a distinct twinkle in her eyes she asked, "I don't suppose this boat is named…."

"_Sea Fever Again_," he admitted.

"Again?"

He shrugged. "When I bought this one it seemed to fit. Lauren didn't like boats or big bodies of water. Made her anxious and seasick. So I had given it up." He sighed. "Anyway, none of that is relevant to today. Want me to walk you upstairs?"

She shook her head. "I'm going to stay down here awhile and work."

"It's late and you've been going non-stop since I got here yesterday afternoon. Go upstairs. Unwind. Get some sleep. There's nothing that can't wait until tomorrow, or even better, until Monday."

"The speech," she reminded him. "It can't wait. I won't have much time Monday. And I want to work on it while your ideas are fresh in my head. Besides I can sleep in tomorrow."

"Okay," he conceded. "I worry about you, though. When was the last time you truly had a vacation?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "Before this whole thing. This job doesn't leave me with a lot of options, you know."

"Yeah. And it's only going to get worse between now and the election. Promise me that you'll find some kind of balance."

"I'll try. Come on, I'll walk _you_ out. Staff entrance, okay? The Service prefers I use that one for non-ceremonial things because it's not out in the open." When she saw the look on his face as they stood, she added, "I know. My life is completely insane."

As they walked out into the hall, he draped an arm around her shoulders. "So long as _you_ don't go insane because of it."

"With you and Cooper around, there's no chance of that…. Are you sure you don't want to take him with you?" she said as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "I hate for him to miss out…."

"Mac, he has a responsibility to the President of the United States. It was his choice to take this job. He understands his duty. And he has school."

"I know," she sighed. "But I hate that he'll miss out on the fun."

"Don't worry," he assured her as they walked past the security desk. "For him, being your body man is like going to Disneyland every day."

"He does seem to enjoy it, or at least he never complains."

"He loves it." He turned towards her to say goodnight as they stopped immediately inside the exterior door. When he saw the same weariness in her eyes that he'd been hearing in her voice the past several minutes, he changed his mind. Brushing back a few hairs that had fallen across her face, he told her with a gentle firmness, "You are exhausted. The speech will wait. Go upstairs."

She wasn't used to having anybody take a hard line with her, except occasionally her mother and previously her father. Even with them she'd frequently resented the interference. But tonight with him, she had no desire to resist. "Okay. Have a good trip."

"Thanks. I'll talk to you tomorrow night."

"Good," she nodded. "Oh… did you figure out your plans for Easter?"

"I think so. Becca and I will be here either late Friday or early Saturday."

"Really?" Suddenly, she felt refreshed.

He nodded. "But I'm afraid we won't be the only ones crashing the party. Alex and my grandmother are insisting…."

"Rebecca's coming? That's terrific. I have it on good authority that she's hardly changed at all."

"Except for a cane and a little more feistiness, that is very true," he verified. "My in-laws are coming, too." Seeing the shock she couldn't hide, he clarified, "Junior invited them…. Well, they wanted to be here to see him as the Easter Bunny. He's their only grandson."

She put a deliberate smile on her face. "Of course, they'd want to…."

"Mac," he interrupted, "I'm not expecting you to entertain us, or do anything really. But if you have a little time, I'd love for you to meet Becca. Alex, of course, is dying to see you. When she has her mind made up, let's just say I've learned to get out of the way—particularly now that she's pregnant. Grace is curious if you actually live in a white house, and if you like your 'boy' bear. And Matt is a great guy. But it's no big deal. Even if you're busy, we can still in get some baseball, if you want. You don't have to decide now. Well, I'd better go." He kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks for dinner."

Before she could even process his words, he was gone and she was left wondering exactly what had just happened. Why was he suddenly hyper and in a hurry to leave? How could he ever believe that she wouldn't make time to be with him and his family? Had he somehow sensed her unease about Lauren's parents? Quickly she followed him outside to the street. Looking to her right, she called after him, "Rod?"

He turned back. "Yeah?"

"Be careful."

He smiled. "I'll be fine. After all, I'm not the one who requires a small army whenever I leave home."

"Lucky you. But you'll call me when you get there?"

"Mackenzie, it's just across the park. Less than five minutes walk."

She chuckled. "I meant the boat, and when you get to the islands. It's supposed to be stormy tomorrow."

"It won't be a problem. It's a fairly big boat. And yes, I'll call you," he assured her. "Go get some sleep. The speech will be fine."

"Okay," she agreed. "Thanks for the assist tonight. I do feel better about all of it."

"That's my girl! Now get to bed."

"You, too." She smiled and felt her pulse quicken. He hadn't called her his "girl" in more than twenty-one years. In the glow of the street lamp, she saw him smile in return. She shivered. Whether because of the cold or pure desire, she couldn't be sure. How could he not see—not feel—how right it was between them? She sighed. Then wondering exactly how safe the park was this time of night, she watched him disappear up West Executive Avenue and out the gate before returning to the West Wing.

Once inside she paused to say goodnight to the agent manning the entrance desk, and realized she would have the answer about the park. "You're Jessica Jenkins? Did I get it right, finally?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jess replied with a smile. President Bridges had never made much of an effort to get to know his protective detail. But she did, and because of it, she was both respected and liked.

"The Service patrols Lafayette Park because it's part of the White House complex, right? So it's a safe place even at night?"

"Yes, ma'am. Is there something I can help you with?"

Casually Mac mentioned, "Cooper's father is walking back to the Hay-Adams and…."

"Don't worry, ma'am. We're looking out for him," Jess assured her with a smile.

"Thanks. Goodnight, Jessica."

"Goodnight, ma'am." Jess saw the palpable relief in her boss. She obviously cared for him. They were all increasingly aware of Judge Calloway and his apparent relationship with the President. In fact, that relationship was rapidly becoming the most popular topic of conversation around the office water cooler. But only amongst themselves, and never with outsiders—including White House staff. Protecting her privacy was an important aspect of their job. But knowledge was power; and those who were bent on destroying her would use any means at their disposal to do so. Generally, however, she preferred to listen to the speculation rather than contribute to it.

Except for with Jeffrey Rivers, her best friend and mutual confidante on the detail. But until tonight he'd been the only one with anything to say because she hadn't seen them together. Jeffrey told her that although the boss had introduced the Judge as "an old friend," he believed there was much more to that story. Even for a PPD agent, Jeff's instincts were good. After tonight, she had to admit he was right. They shared an easy, close, affectionate relationship, if not yet an intimate one. _Good for her_, she thought and went back to work.

XXXXXXXXXX

As she walked upstairs Mac felt the physical exhaustion Rod had seen. On top of that, her right arm and shoulder, and even her legs, ached from all that baseball. Two weeks. She only had two weeks to get it down. Where would she find the time this week to practice with Cooper? There was the eulogy, the funeral, deciding on a nominee, campaign events… the daily grind. Not to mention any of a thousand things that could go wrong in the world. _First things first_, she reminded herself. And that meant the eulogy. She told him she would go upstairs and forget about the speech for tonight but she couldn't do that… not yet. She had to get his ideas down on paper while they remained fresh on her mind.

When she walked into her office to get the draft of the speech, she paused a moment and looked around. He was right. This was still Bridges' office. Only a few photos of her and her parents on the credenza behind the desk suggested otherwise. Why hadn't she made changes? There hadn't been much time to think about it. But was it a reflection of how she saw herself? Rod insisted her presence here was her destiny. Her father would have insisted the same. She, however, wasn't sure. She loved her job and knew she could do it as well as the next guy; and she definitely did not want Templeton having it. But did she believe she could win? That she was anything more than an accidental President?

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. She couldn't worry about that now. She had work to do. It would all be irrelevant if she didn't get it right with the eulogy and Justice Jackson's successor. She picked up the speech and went into her study. She preferred to do most of her individual work from here. It was smaller, more intimate, and away from the eyes of history that were ever present upon her in the Oval Office. She chuckled. Here she was thinking about ghosts. She was as bad as Cooper.

She turned on a few more lamps in the room to make the work easier on her tired eyes and saw Mister, wearing his little Red Sox uniform. In all that had taken place the past several days, she'd forgotten about him. She picked him up and sat on the small sofa. He was the cutest stuffed animal she'd ever seen, and so soft and cuddly. A picture of Rod at the bear store with little Grace in tow emerged in her mind. She could imagine Grace asking about his friend Mackenzie, and trying to imagine why on earth she would want a "boy" bear. He wouldn't have called her "Mac" or "President Allen," but "Mackenzie." That's who she was to him, who she'd always been to him from the moment he learned her true name. Except for when he was frustrated or upset with her, or when they were talking about her work. Then, more often than not, she was "Mac," or occasionally a most irreverent "Madam President."

Only twice had he called her by her official title and meant it. On the day they'd met when she'd unwittingly questioned if he resented Cooper spending so much time with her. She'd hurt him and he'd attempted to end their reunion, calling her "Madam President" in the process. He'd called her that again on Wednesday when she called about the Supreme Court nomination. He'd been furious with her after Jim's earlier call. Luckily he hadn't remained angry. He never remained angry for long. Instead he'd come here, taught her how to pitch, acted as campaign manager, political advisor, and so much else. And he'd turned down the nomination again.

She sighed. How many times over the past few months had he overpowered her thoughts? Most days, she was able to rein herself in and get her work done. She couldn't do that tonight. His presence in her heart and mind was too dominant for mere work. "Come on, little boy," she said with a wry smile to her bear. "Your maker is right. The speech will have to wait. Let's go upstairs."

Mac turned off the light, grabbed Mister, and returned to the Residence. As she walked down the Center Hall she saw Rod's jacket draped over a chair. Mr. Waverly must have set it out so for him. She picked it up and inhaled the scent that was distinctly the man she loved. She couldn't stop herself from putting it on and imagining he enveloped her instead.

Maybe some fresh air would help her sort out the thoughts and emotions that were all jumbled up together. She walked through the Yellow Room and out on the Truman Balcony. Was it only this morning she'd looked out at this view at the lightning and heavy rain? Now the skies were clear. "What do you think, Mister?" she rhetorically asked her furry little friend still clutched in one arm as she took a seat in one of the Adirondack chairs. "Quite the view, isn't it? Of course, what we really need out here is a nice, wide swing."

She shook her head. Was she honestly talking to a stuffed animal? Maybe the insanity _was_ getting to her. From all she'd read, or had been told by Cooper, she certainly wouldn't be the first White House resident to go a little crazy. A little lunacy was probably inevitable here.

One thing was clear to her. The presidency was a costly endeavor. It was costing Rod his dream job and the pinnacle of any judge's career—the Supreme Court. And it was costing her a chance at a relationship with him—to love him and be loved by him. Without the personal and professional conflicts caused by their jobs—mostly hers—they could be together. Most of the obstacles that stood between them would disappear.

As that thought reached the forefront of her mind, she scoffed, _Get a grip, Mac!_ Before tonight it was at least possible for her to believe that was true. Not anymore. The reality is that it was Lauren that made anything other than friendship between them impossible. Lauren, who had been dead for nearly thirteen years, and whose loss was his only past regret. Lauren. Not her. Never her. How could she compete with a ghost? With a woman perfected by death?

Now he wanted her to meet Lauren's parents as if it was nothing. What was he thinking? And how was it that he still called them his in-laws like he continued to be married to their daughter? It was as if she hadn't been dead thirteen years. Were they part of Lauren's chokehold over him? Were they keeping him metaphorically chained to their dead daughter's side? What must they think of her? And of him coming here? What should she say to them? _Sorry about your daughter's death all those years ago, but hey… your loss is my gain._

The last thing in the world she'd ever expected was for him to fall in love, and marry, a woman who hated boats. Even so, why would he give up something he loved so much? Couldn't he have gone without her? It was petty and juvenile, but a big part of her was glad Lauren got seasick and didn't like the water, and that she never shared that time with him, never understood how deeply embedded it was in his soul and how essential it was to his well-being. At least she had the consolation of knowing Lauren wouldn't—couldn't—come between them there.

Of course, the whole fiasco was her fault. He never would have married Lauren if she hadn't been such a fool and a coward. She could have been married to him for over twenty years. They could have built and shared a life together. It was what he'd wanted. Only she'd been too afraid to trust, and too blind to see what was staring her in the face: In any way that mattered, Rod and David were nothing alike. On his worst days Rod was a better man than David could ever hope to be. Now she was left with hugs instead of kisses, and with being friends rather than lovers and partners.

A gush of wind came up so she pulled the jacket's collar up around her face and snuggled deeper into its folds. She was reminded of their day together on Long Island Sound aboard his boat, _Sea Fever II_. It had been a crisp, sunny November day, and it had been incredible. His cast had come off that morning. They were young, free, happy and very much in love. Only she'd been too stupid to recognize it for what it was. Even so, it had been an amazing day that had developed into a perfect evening. She'd felt so close to him. He'd been so giving, so fun, so loving, and so sexy.

Ironically, the date had come out of a fight over Mike Stanton. Why hadn't she trusted Rod and done what he'd asked? Why had she ever listened to anything Mike had said about him? She'd always thought she had good instincts about people. But she couldn't have been more wrong there. And it had cost her dearly. Of course that fight had led to Syd's "Real Men Marry Lawyers" sweatshirt, and their weekend together in Greenwich, in Bridgeport, and on the Sound.

She'd been so surprised to learn what he had planned for them that day, and even more surprised when she'd opened the gift boxes and discovered her own boat gear. Never had she felt more beautiful than on that day wearing his gifts. She chuckled as she recalled how he'd leaned against the side of the boat shamelessly waiting for her to kiss him. And when she did, how they nearly made love. They almost made love again lying intertwined on the deck after her fish got eaten. She felt so safe and cherished in his strong yet gentle arms as they watched the sunset from the beach and then made smores. She could almost feel his caress on her leg as he drove the boat with her wrapped around his back. She sighed. How many days like that could they have shared over the years if she'd only been smart enough to listen and have faith in him?

When they had children, it could have turned into a family activity—a time for all of them to be together, and a reprieve from the inevitable stress and pressure of daily life. Although she hadn't met Becca yet, it was so easy for her to imagine the twins being hers—hers and Rod's. She and Cooper would be going with him tomorrow if that were the case. How she wished that were her reality!

Would she have become President? She didn't know the answer, or how she felt about it. Maybe he would have become the President. That was always the plan, wasn't it? Would she have been content to be the supportive one? She didn't have that answer either. Again she sighed. The only truth she was certain of was that she loved her job, she loved him—then and now, and she would have loved to raise a family with him.

What about other children? Would they have been content with two? Or after a time would they have discovered someone was missing from their family? A dark-haired little girl with big brown eyes, and a fetish for chocolate? Or an auburn-headed boy with soulful grey-green eyes, a wicked grin, and a love for bananas and peanut butter?

She brushed the tears from her eyes. It was too late for her. She'd blown it. She'd never experience the joy of being called "Mom." Besides, she was an only child and the daughter of only children. She knew nothing about children or how to be a parent. Not to mention that the man she loved didn't love her back; and he'd already raised two children and had done it pretty much on his own. Even if he did love her, there were still their careers to consider. His work was intense and demanding, and after years of placing the needs of his children first, he finally had the ability to concentrate on that work; and her job was impossible—all-consuming.

How did everything change so drastically for her? A few months ago she'd been happy and content, hadn't she? She loved her job and had wonderful friends and her mother. Life was full. She gave a rueful chuckle. She had been content because she'd forgotten what it felt like to love a man deeply, passionately. She remembered now and knew what she should have recognized then. She could have saved them both so much heartache and loneliness if she had. There was no going back to the day before Cooper, to the half-life she'd convinced herself was full. Instead she had to find away to come to grips with her present, and with the truth that she'd given up the one person who could satisfy her, love her, and help her make her life all it could have been.

Someday she would tell him what that day on the boat meant to her, and what she would change if she could live it over again. Tonight she would have to make do with what she had: a phenomenal baseball coach, counselor, sounding board, and friend; a thoughtful, cuddly little teddy bear to hold; and thanks to his jacket, which carried that indescribable scent so unique to him, at least the temporary illusion of being wrapped in his strong, caring arms.

XXXXXXXXXX

The shrill sound of the phone ringing woke Mac. She opened her eyes to find Mister looking at her as if he were a watchdog. She felt her face flush. Had she in fact slept with a teddy bear? What damage that could cause to her image! She reluctantly rolled over and reached for the phone. She had no idea what time it was, or when she'd finally drifted off to sleep.

"Yes," she said into the receiver.

"_Madam President, Cooper is calling for you,"_ the operator replied.

"Put him through." She looked at the clock. Wiped the sleep out of her eyes and looked at it again. Nine o'clock? It couldn't be.

"Ma'am?"

"Morning, Junior. You're up early for a Sunday. Is this a work call? What's going on?"

He chuckled. "Not exactly. I have a message for you from the old man."

She chuckled, too. "I take it you don't call him that to his face."

"No way."

"What's the message?" she asked with a smile.

"Check your email."

"Is that all?"

"Uh huh."

"Did he get off okay?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure you don't want to fly down and meet them? You can if you want."

"It would be fun. But I have school, and I'd spend the entire week getting lectured by Dad on duty and responsibility."

She laughed. "I know the feeling. In that case, can we practice pitching today? If my arm's not too sore."

"Sure," he answered. "At least it's sunny today. I can show you some stretches to loosen up the arm."

"Great. I desperately need the practice. Where are you?"

"At the hotel."

"Do you have a suit with you?"

"Yes, ma'am. Are you asking about church?" he asked with a groan.

"I am."

"Okay," he said with a sigh. "But can we go to the English sermon today?"

She laughed. "I can live with that compromise. Come with me. Afterwards we can have lunch and practice for a while. Then I've got to write that eulogy. But I'll let you sleep in tomorrow morning."

"Okay. Do you want me to ride with you?"

"If you want. You can leave your stuff here and won't have to worry about it afterwards."

"Okay. Don't forget about the email. He'll kill me otherwise."

"Well, we can't have that," she exclaimed. "Thanks, Cooper."

"You're welcome, Mackenzie."

After she hung up, Mac jumped out of bed and grabbed her laptop. Sure enough there was an email from "Mister" waiting for her. She quickly opened it and read:

_Good morning, Sunshine. Did you sleep well? You better not have burned the midnight oil working on that speech. Had some time this morning at the airport and on the plane. Hope this helps._

_P.S. 347 U.S. 483 _

What Supreme Court case is that? Should she know it off the top of her head? She smiled because the cryptic use of the citation reminded her of how he'd chosen to ask her out on their first—second—date. She'd have someone pull it for her while she was at church.

She clicked on the attachment and then opened the file. What she read took her breath away. It was her eulogy for the funeral, and it was exquisite.


	21. The Shortest Distance Between Friends

**21. The Shortest Distance Between Friends**

**Tuesday, March 22, 2016**

"Morning, Son," Rod exclaimed.

Cooper looked up from his desk with a smile. "Hey, Dad. How was the flight?"

"Bumpy. Get your paper finished last night?"

"Yes, sir," Cooper nodded. "Dad, did you meet Laura, the President's personal secretary, the other night?" he asked.

"I didn't." Rod walked over to the adjacent desk where a smiling young Asian-American woman sat. "I'm the 'Old Man,'" he said with a wink while extending his hand to her. "Rod Calloway."

"Laura Allred," she answered shaking his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Judge."

"He staying out of trouble," he asked her gesturing with his head towards Cooper, who wore the sheepish face of a kid busted for breaking curfew.

"Dad…."

"Well, is he?" he pressed with a smile.

Laura smiled. "On most days."

"At least he's the easy Calloway twin."

Laura laughed.

"Speaking of Becca," Rod walked back to Cooper's desk and pulled a hastily wrapped gift from his briefcase. "This is for you."

"Thanks," Cooper replied as he quickly tore open the paper to find a T-shirt with "The Bahamas" and a map of the islands across the front.

"Turn it over," Rod told him with a smirk.

Cooper did so and read aloud, "My beautiful twin visited paradise but all I got was this stupid shirt."

They all laughed.

"She was happy about the day at the spa," Cooper added.

"Happy to have me out of the way so she could have free rein with my credit card," Rod replied sardonically.

"Uh oh," Mac interrupted from the doorway to the Oval Office. "Still haven't learned not to leave women alone with the plastic, huh? And my father had such high hopes for you." She shook her head with a smile. "Although I guess in this case the fault is mine."

"Obviously I still have the word 'SUCKER' tattooed across my forehead when it comes to _all_ the women in my life," he acknowledged with a slight bow and a corresponding grin.

"Thank heavens!" Mac exclaimed walking towards him. "Hey," she said more softly as she stopped directly in front of him.

"Hey, yourself." He kissed her on the cheek.

"You got some sun. Looks good," she told him with a tap on his nose.

"Told you, not a cloud in the sky on Sunday," he reminded her. "So much for the efficiency of this Administration's weather team."

"You want to apply for the job?" she asked with a coy smile as their eyes locked.

"What do you think?"

"Excuse me, Judge Calloway, Madam President."

"What is it, Jim?" Mac asked her Chief of Staff as they turned around.

"They're ready for us on the conference call downstairs.

She nodded with a small groan and looked helplessly at Rod. "I'm sorry. New unrest in Gaza and the Golan Heights."

"Then you better get to it."

"It may take a while."

"Mackenzie, go. I'm early and it is, after all, a work day."

"Do you want to wait here?" she asked. "Would you prefer upstairs? Or my private study? How about breakfast? You probably didn't…."

"Madam President," he told her with amused insistence, "I'm fine. Go."

"Okay," she smiled back. She looked at Jim. "Let's get this done."

XXXXXXXXXX

Mac finished her last phone appointment as the motorcade pulled onto the back driveway after the funeral. She handed the phone to Cooper and looked at her watch: 1:30 p.m. _Wow_, she thought. She'd just turned two hours worth of face-to-face meetings into twenty minutes on the phone. She'd have to utilize this tool more often.

She felt Rod's eyes on her and looked up.

"Is it always like this?" he asked.

"So it seems."

"Lucky you."

She returned his smile. "Lucky me."

As the car stopped in front of the South Portico, Mac said, "Home, Sweet Home." Then seeing his reaction, she added, "I know. It's absurd. But…."

"It is what it is," he finished with a grin.

"Exactly. And the service can't be beat. Thanks, Jeffrey," she said to Agent Rivers as he held her door and she stepped out of the limousine once they'd stopped. She'd discreetly asked that he accompany her today because Rod was familiar with him. At his suggestion Jessica Jenkins had also been added to her personal detail.

"Are you going to eat with us?" Mac asked Cooper when he got out of the car after his father.

"Would it be okay if I studied instead?"

"Of course. I forgot about your test," she told him. "Use the Library where nobody will bug you. I won't need anything for a few hours."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'll have someone bring you lunch. What do you want?"

Cooper shrugged. "Whatever you're having. Thanks."

He looked over at his father, who was examining the support cables attached to one of the two magnolia trees that were beginning to bloom on the west side of the portico. "What time do you leave Dad?"

Rod looked at his watch. "Flight leaves at 4:30 p.m. Not sure how long I'll be here but I'll find you before I go."

"Okay." He headed off to the West Wing to get his books.

"He's such a great kid," Mac said joining his father under the tree.

"Especially when he's asleep," Rod replied with a smile.

Mac chuckled and with a sparkle in her eyes commented, "He's a lot like you in that, too. Can fall asleep anywhere instantly."

"A blessing and a curse depending on time and place."

"Mostly a blessing," she suggested.

"Yeah," he acknowledged. "These are amazing trees. How old are they?"

"Precisely?" she asked. "I'm not sure. Cooper could probably tell us. He's become a walking encyclopedia on White House history. Eighteen-thirty something. Harry Truman planted the ones on the east side after the balcony was added to the portico. These were planted by Andrew Jackson in honor of his wife, Rachel, who died a few months before he took office." Instantly she regretted her final words. She had no desire to talk with him about dead wives today—or ever for that matter. Changing the subject she asked, "Where would you like to eat?"

"Are you sure you have time?" He asked. "You've got a lot going on. I can easily get something downtown and then go to the airport."

"Rod, you _are_ my schedule for the next couple of hours," she insisted. "We can call it work if you want. You know, the President consulting with the federal judiciary."

He grinned. "Oh, I think we can find more interesting matters to discuss, don't you?"

Of that, she had no doubt. From the earliest days of their relationship they'd talked, debated, shared and laughed with ease for hours at a time. With acute nostalgia she remembered the little glass jar that contained all kinds of questions on little slips of paper that he'd brought to their first official dinner together. They really hadn't needed it. However, it made getting to know one another so much more fun. But then, he made everything more fun—even funerals. "Conversation has never been a problem between us, has it?"

"No, it hasn't," he agreed. "With a few exceptions." One of those exceptions had always been her past relationships, and particularly the man who broke her heart. _What was his name?_ He asked himself. _David, wasn't it? Isn't that what she'd recently told him?_ He sighed inaudibly. She hadn't understood when they'd been together that what had happened with him was a blessing. _What about now?_ He wondered.

"It's always been one of the things I love most about being with you." She recognized now what she'd failed to then. With him she was safe. It mattered not to him whether she was "Mackenzie," "Mac Allen," "Editor-in-Chief of the Yale Law Journal," or "Madam President." He knew the woman inside, and accepted her—warts and all. This alone, given their past, was more than she had a right to demand from him at present. But she loved him with all her heart and she would never stop hoping that he would again come to love her, too.

"Me, too," he agreed huskily as their eyes locked.

The connection between them was so strong she had to make a deliberate effort to breathe. _How could he not see what she saw? Feel what she felt?_ She took another breath. _How could she make him see? Feel?_ She realized with a sudden clarity that she couldn't. This was one situation completely outside her control. She was the passenger, not the driver, the proverbial Indian and not his Chief. She sighed. For a self-acknowledged control freak it was torture. But what could she do? Except deal with it and then find an outlet for her frustration. "The weather's perfect. I thought lunch outside would be nice. Maybe the patio outside my office?"

He smiled. As President, she was accustomed to being in charge all the time and to people immediately falling in line with her chosen desires. It was too great a temptation to resist. "Out of curiosity, what would you say if I told you I preferred somewhere else?"

"Do you?" she questioned earnestly.

"That wasn't my question."

"Excuse me, Your Honor," she said with a mock show of deference. "I forget the Court prefers to speak in hypothetical."

He laughed.

"Roderic," she said softly walking towards him. She couldn't help herself. After hours of being in close proximity to him, she ached to touch him.

The velvet tone of her voice and the way she looked at him practically made him quiver. Her physical effect on him had not dissipated. However, he couldn't go back to before. He couldn't view their breakup as the tragedy she believed it to be. He wasn't exactly sure how she felt about him today, she'd never really said. Not that it made any difference. He only hoped that she understood. More than anything he wanted his presence in her life to be good for her. He would do anything in his power to make it that way, and then hope that it was enough. That he was enough. He felt a tug on his tie and looked down.

"Hey," she said when their eyes met. "I totally lost you. Where'd you go?"

"Lost in thought, I guess," he replied with a surprising flush that unknowingly made his companion fall deeper in love.

"Back out on the boat?" she gently prodded.

"No. Just completely overwhelmed. You win the race for history's most beautiful leader of the free world by a landslide."

"I don't know," she teased back. "That's some stiff competition. Washington with his false teeth and the personal warmth of a glacier, Lincoln with his beard and depressing nature, and Jefferson with his prissy, French couture—not to mention Taft, who got stuck in the bathtub."

He grinned before turning immediately serious. Reaching out to tuck her nearly shoulder length, auburn hair behind one ear he told her, "You are beautiful. And you were marvelous today."

"You mean _we_ were," she insisted with an involuntary blush of her own.

"No," he shook his head and tucked his chin. "You. During the entire thing I had to check myself for inappropriate smiles. Other than those few minutes with the press after church, this was my first opportunity to observe you firsthand as President of the United States. I was so proud watching you up there, and the Admiral would have been busting out of his uniform watching his daughter do what she was meant to do."

"Thank you," she said with a soft, almost shy smile. "I'm relieved it's over. This one had me on edge. Thanks for being there. Thanks for everything. Your words were perfect. I felt like every single one was deliberately chosen with me in mind."

He lightly traced his fingers down one cheekbone that was still a most appealing shade of pink. "Each one _was_ chosen with you in mind. It couldn't be any other way."

"It was incredible. Something I've never experienced before. I honestly felt that they'd come from me."

"I'm glad. I can't get over how good you were up there. I mean you are always way above the curve but today…. Wow."

She felt the heat again flush across her face and for a moment she was twenty-five again. Only today, she understood so much more about him and the inherent grace of his soul. "It was you. All you. It made such a difference to look down and see your face, and feel your support and encouragement." Her voice cracked slightly. She was finding it so hard not to wrap her arms around him and lay her cheek against his strong, steady heart. Instead she resorted to dry, deflecting humor. "I guess we'll have to add 'Czar of Depressing Speeches and Eulogies' to your job descriptions."

He smiled. She liked to believe she was an emotional island. But he knew better. Nonetheless, he played along. "I don't know," he mimicked with a contemplative shake of the head. "That sounds like one title too many. I probably better stick with…."

"Secretary of Hugging?" she asked hopefully.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, you know what they say about a hug."

"What?" he asked indulgently as another smile began to crease his face.

"That it's the shortest distance between friends."

"Come here," he said, his voice uneven.

Without hesitation she closed the short distance between them and immediately his arms imprisoned her tightly against him. Glad she'd opted against wearing high heels this morning, she wrapped her arms around him and rested her head against his heart. She loved his heart.

Rod felt her sigh against him. He closed his eyes and willed himself to exercise self-control. He'd forgotten how good it felt to have her in his arms, her head resting high on his chest. He bent forward and kissed the top of her head as he continued to hold her.

"You better watch out," she whispered. "I may never let you go."

"I'm not going anywhere," he quietly assured her as one hand stroked her hair. "For as long as you want or need me. For as long as I'm good for you." He gently forced her slightly away so he could see into her face. "But Mackenzie," he added with a slight break in his voice, "make sure that it is good for you because I'm too selfish to judge for myself."

"You don't have a selfish bone in your body," she said looking up into his beautiful eyes. "You never have. And you could never be anything but good for me. I'm only sorry I didn't understand that before."

"Mackenz…."

She put a finger to his lips. "Don't say anything."

He nodded before kissing her forehead. "Ready for lunch outside by your office?"

She shook her head. "I've got a better idea. Let's have them set up a table right here."

"Here?" He looked at her in surprise.

"Uh huh," she nodded. "It's perfect." _And much more intimate_, she thought.

He looked around. They were standing on a little stone patio with a wrought iron bench and big, clay pots that would no doubt be filled with flowers in a few weeks. "Lunch under Old Hickory's magnolias, huh?"

"Uh huh."

"I wonder why he didn't plant hickory trees instead?"

"Probably because he was contemplating the love of his life. What woman wants to be honored with a hickory tree? Where's the romance and poetry in that?"

He laughed. "You're probably right about that…. Memo to self: no paying tribute to women with hickory trees."

"Definitely something to keep in mind," she agreed with a smile. "I'm going to let Mr. Waverly know about our plan for lunch. I'll be right back."

He nodded. "I'm going to take a short walk. After all that sitting on the plane and during the service, I'd love to stretch my legs a little. Do you mind?"

"Of course, not. But you might want to lose the jacket and tie. I think I might quickly change out of this depressing suit."

"It may be appropriately plain, but you look great in it," he said taking off his jacket and tie while looking her over yet again.

"Thank you."

"I won't be long."

"Good. Neither will I." She had no intention of wasting a single minute with him, if she could help it.

XXXXXXXXXX

As it turned out, she couldn't help it. She was delayed by Nora, who rattled on and on about some mishap or other involving eggs that were the wrong color for the Easter Egg Roll.

_Why couldn't mother be in town today?_ She thought impatiently as she walked through the Palm Room and back outside. _At least Mr. Waverly is capable of doing his job_, she quietly muttered as she noticed the little table that had been beautifully set under the magnolia trees. Now all that was missing was her man. She stepped out onto the driveway to see if she could catch a glimpse of him wandering about the yard. Of course, she could ask one of the agents for assistance.

"Hey," she heard a familiar voice exclaim from behind. She turned around and found him casually sitting half way up the portico steps, his shirt sleeves rolled up almost to his elbows, and looking like he hadn't a care in the world.

"I'm sorry," she told him as she walked towards him.

"For what?" he asked, scooting over to one side and patting the step in front of him.

"For taking so long," she replied joining him. She'd changed into a cadet blue gabardine pants suit with a yellow and blue striped blouse that was far more comfortable than the stiff, formal black skirt and jacket she'd worn to the funeral.

"Trouble?" he questioned. "Look, I know what is required of you. If you need to get back to work, go. I understand."

"I know you do," she responded while turning to look at him more directly. "You've always understood—better than anyone, except perhaps my father. But this was nuisance stuff. Grace Bridges' Chief of Staff completely unglued about the Easter Egg Roll. She is wholly incapable it seems of making even the smallest decision." She sighed. "I need a wife."

He laughed. "They want you to play First Lady, too, huh?"

"If you only knew," she said rolling her eyes.

"Thanks, but I'd rather remain in blissful ignorance."

She looked at him close and realized he wasn't teasing. "You hate this, don't you?"

"This?" He repeated while gesturing towards the vista that lay before them, which included the Washington Monument and Jefferson Memorial. "This is incredible."

"Rod…"

"Oh, you mean the dog and pony show you headline?"

She nodded. "That's one way to put it. That, or 'Circus Animals on Parade.' You haven't answered my question, though."

"Hate is a strong word. But you're right. This isn't something I desire. I'm surprised you weren't attacked by the White House Press Corps when we got back like you were on the way out."

"I blocked their access. I wasn't about to subject you to it a second time today."

"Mac…."

"I know. You're a big boy," she told him lightly. "But still…. Besides occasionally they need to be made to remember their place."

"In that case, thank you," he said graciously.

"I am curious about something. You always loved politics and all its games. What changed your mind?"

"Life, I guess… and my family. It wasn't worth the personal costs or sacrificing their happiness and well-being for my ambitions. And now, I have no desire…"

"Does it have to be that way? That the two are mutually exclusive?"

"I don't know." He met her gaze and held it. "Why did you run for Congress? You never had any interest in that when we were together?"

"It certainly wasn't planned," she admitted. "Came out of the blue. I was totally shocked when some local party bigwigs asked me. Even then, I had no intention of doing it."

He cocked his head. "What changed your mind?"

"Not what…. Who."

"The Admiral?"

She nodded. "He was firm about it. Said I had no choice."

"He was right, you know?"

"I know," she quietly acknowledged. "You would have told me the same thing if we were together, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation. Looking into her eyes, he told her, "This is who you were born to be. Michael told me all those years ago that you were destined for greatness. I've never doubted it."

Mac felt such a tangible warmth pour over her body and soul that she was temporarily unable to speak. Finally, after a long moment she said, "You're right about the view. It may be the best thing about my job. Well, other than the airplane and helicopter."

He smiled. "Seems like Junior isn't the only one around here with a fetish for cool modes of transportation."

"What can I say? It's addicting. Ready to eat?"

"You read my mind."

"Like that's hard when food is involved. Come on," she said standing.

XXXXXXXXXX

Together they walked the ten feet or so to the patio between the Jackson trees. He helped her remove her jacket and it joined his coat and tie on the adjacent white bench. No sooner had they sat down than a steward appeared with soup, salad and bread.

"I thought we'd keep lunch light so we can save some room for dessert. The pastry chef here is unbelievable." A sweet tooth was something they'd always shared.

"Perfect," he agreed. "This looks delicious."

Without hesitation they each attacked their meal in comfortable silence until Mac put down her fork and said, "I checked out that Supreme Court case from your email. You knew I would."

He nodded.

"_Brown vs. the Board of Education_. Why did you only leave the citation?"

"To make you curious."

She smiled. Somehow from the moment they'd met he'd understood her fundamental need to respond when challenged. "You know, it reminded me of our first date, or are we considering that initial dinner on the day we met a date?"

"You tell me."

"Our second date, then," she decided. "And our first kiss. Not just one if my memory is correct."

"No, not just one."

She moved her dishes to the side and leaned forward on the table. "How _did_ you come up with that very creative approach of using citations for cases with our names to ask me out? You'd only been in law school a few days."

He shrugged. "It just came to me. Seeing you sitting so cozily with Stanton in the library brought out my A-game, I guess."

"You were jealous?" She asked in disbelief. He'd never given any indication of such emotions that she could recall.

"Of course, I was jealous. I was jealous as hell… and determined."

"Determined?"

"To win you over."

"Don't you know? You already had. As I recall, even while sitting across from Mike that afternoon, I only had eyes for you," she told him. _And I still do_, she added silently to herself.

"Yeah," he acknowledged with a sigh. "Those were good days."

"Yes, they were," she agreed with a sigh of her own as she looked into his eyes and tried without words to convey the message that it could again be like that between them. But when it became clear he had no answer for her, she went back to her original thought.

"I looked up the case history."

"And what did you find?"

"A lot of important information I'd either forgotten or hadn't known. Specifically that Chief Justice Fred Vinson had ordered re-argument of the case and then died unexpectedly; and that it is common belief that before his death the Court would have voted 5-4 against striking down _Plessy v. Ferguson_ and the doctrine of separate but equal. But that under the leadership of the new Chief, Earl Warren, the Court unanimously held that segregation based on race to be unconstitutional."

He smiled. "It's a fascinating case. A watershed in the Court's history."

"A watershed for us all. Without it, we'd likely be decades behind where we are in civil rights. Thanks for the gentle reminder of what is potentially at stake."

He nodded and with a wink replied, "_Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world…._"

"_Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has_," she finished with a smile. "Margaret Mead."

He laughed. "Point for you."

"Coming from the Jedi Word Master that is high praise."

He groaned and shook his head. "Not another title?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Too bad the Founding Fathers didn't give you the power to make me a knight. I hear that title comes with some cool perks. Junior would love those."

"Yes, he would. Sir Roderic Gabriel Calloway? Does have a nice ring to it." She shook her head. "Sorry. Would be most undemocratic. You'll just have to be content with serving at the pleasure of the President."

"And it is a pleasure," he replied using the same words she'd used with him the other night.

"Given my past mistakes, I don't deserve it. But…"

"I don't want to hear any more of that," he interjected with a shake of his head. More kindly he added, "We all make mistakes. I never expected you to be perfect. And you shouldn't expect it of yourself."

"You're right," she answered with an audible sigh before they both momentarily looked away. "Roderic?"

He looked up as she searched him out.

"I want to be good for you, too," she said softly.

"Tell me about David."

"David?" she sputtered.

He nodded. "That is his name—the man before me who broke your heart. Isn't that what you told me?"

"Yes," she said, her voice hardly more than a whisper. She'd never shared the specifics of what happened with anyone. Not even her mother. "Why would you want? It was over long before you and…"

"Mackenzie," he gently interrupted as he reached across the table and took her hand. "I saw the fear and devastation in your eyes that night I told you I loved you; and later your tear stained cheeks and the way you clung to the edge of the bed and my pillow like a life preserver. It killed me seeing you that way. But nothing I did or tried made a difference. You would never open up and let me in. It seems to me that he played as big a part in our relationship as Mike Stanton. Don't you think it's time we talked about him?"

Mac had to look away. As he spoke, all of it came back: The devastation, uncertainty, and shame. What David had done to her, and how he'd dictated her responses to this man at her side. She felt his thumb tenderly caress the base of her palm, and her eyes were compelled down to their intertwined hands. Suddenly she recalled that when he'd first said those magical words he'd been holding her hand much the same way. She doubted he was aware of it. He couldn't be. If only she could hear those words from him again. "Don't shut me out," she heard him plead. "Not again."

She looked up into his face. After a time she said, "I guess it's time, isn't it?"

"Yes."

She inhaled as much air as her lungs could take and then slowly released it. "His name is David. We met suddenly and unexpectedly my first full day in Jerusalem. He's from England. His family is wealthy and titled. Immediately we became inseparable. I was worried about the vast differences in our backgrounds. He repeatedly insisted that none of that mattered and that we were fated to be together. Eventually we made love. He was my first. Six months later—right before we parted for six weeks—we became engaged. I got back a couple of days before he did, and was waiting for him at the apartment—his apartment—with a romantic dinner planned. But when he came, he wasn't alone. He brought a wife back with him. His childhood sweetheart. I knew nothing about her and I don't think she knew anything about me. He introduced me as a 'good friend.' Told me that we were too different. That was it. Afterwards, day after day, we went to school together. Day after day, I had to see the pity in the eyes of our classmates."

"That explains so much," he said, once he'd processed the significance of her words. "And you thought I was like him?"

"No," she shook her head.

"Mac," he insisted. "I'm not blind to the similarities between us."

"At first I did," she conceded. "I wasn't seeing clearly. He led my on and lied to me. And I still don't understand why. What did she have that I don't? I'm smart, personable, and at least passably pretty. I was willing to give up everything for him. I would have made a great diplomat's wife." She sighed. "So many unanswered questions."

"I see," he said removing his hand from hers and leaning back in his chair. _More than you_, he added silently.

"What do you see?"

He shrugged. "He was a jerk. I'm sorry for what you went through."

"You don't blame me?"

"For what?"

"For not telling you. For letting it come between us."

"It is what it is, Mac. We can't go back. You handled it the best way you could see at the time."

"I'm not the same person now."

"Neither of us are," he told her with a deep sigh. "Which brings us to the present. About this weekend?"

"Yes?"

"I've arranged for Easter brunch at the hotel at noon. I thought we'd attend the ten o'clock service at St. John's first. We'd love to have you join us. I'd really like you to meet Becca. But if you can't or don't want to, I understand."

She leaned forwards, elbows on the table. "Don't want to? Why would you ever think I wouldn't want to be with you, and your family?"

"Well, my in-laws will be here. The other night it seemed like you didn't want…. Look, it's okay."

"Rod, I was surprised. That's all. I didn't expect after so long…. Why do you still call them your in-laws?"

"Because that's who they are," he told her.

"You're still that close?" She could scarcely imagine it.

"I don't think you understand. They—especially Anne—made it possible for me to have a career. She was there after school when I couldn't be, helped drive their carpools, practiced the piano with them, went shopping with Becca. They were always great about attending school programs and ball games. Whatever I needed, they did."

"But the twins have been gone for almost two years. You still see them regularly?"

"Almost every day. They live across the street. They're family."

"Wow," she exclaimed sitting back as his words sunk in. "I knew you stayed in Atlanta so the twins could be close to Lauren's family. I just never expected…. I probably should have. Do they know about us? I mean our history together."

"They know we dated law school. Obviously they know we've been spending time together—that we're friends again."

"And they're okay with it?"

He cocked his head with a furrowed brow. "Why wouldn't they be?"

"You were married to their daughter, and I'm another woman. It must be difficult…."

He smiled. "Mackenzie, they're not like that at all. They're terrific, warm people. I think you'll like them."

"Tell me about them. Their names are William and Anne? When I met Cooper he mentioned being named after both of his grandfathers."

"That's right. Murphy is their last name. Their story together is remarkable. Anne came from a very wealthy but very Catholic family. William spent most of his childhood in various foster homes. But he was very smart and enterprising. Anyway, they fell in love at fifteen. She got pregnant with Lauren at sixteen. Her family wanted her to quit seeing him and give the baby of for adoption. She refused and they disowned her."

"You're kidding? How could her parents? What did they do?"

"Struggled, I suppose. But they never gave up on each other, or their love for each other. Somehow they both managed to graduate from high school and William got a job working as a runner for the Atlanta Braves. He managed to catch the attention of the team's owner, who put him through university and taught him everything he knew about business and baseball. He's never worked anywhere else, and eventually became General Manager. It took time but finally her family came around."

"He's still working?"

He nodded. "He's no longer General Manager but Vice-President of Baseball Operations. He'll probably hit you up about throwing out the first pitch in Atlanta next year."

She laughed. "He may want to wait and see how I do this year. Besides I may only be a former president next year."

"Not you," he said with conviction. "You will continue to make history."

"You're that sure of voters?"

"I'm that sure of you."

She smiled. "Despite the insanity and absurdity of my lifestyle?"

"Despite everything," he told her as right on cue the stewards removed their lunch plates and replaced them with dessert. "Napoleon?" he asked looking down at the rectangular layered pastry with cream filling and a thin layer of chocolate on top.

She nodded. "It's incredible. Of course, the white chocolate—raspberry truffle cheesecake is addicting, too."

"Next time," he suggested as he took his first bite. "Or maybe not. This is amazing."

"I know. All the more reason to exercise hard every day," she exclaimed before taking another bite.

"Mac?" he asked a few minutes later.

She looked up.

"You'll join us at church and for brunch on Sunday?"

"I'd love to," she replied. "But why don't we eat here instead."

He shook his head. "No, this is my responsibility. I'm not going to pass it off onto you."

"I'd love to do it—well, the chefs would love to do it."

"Thank you. But I'd feel better about doing it at the hotel. I didn't invite you to get you to play hostess. You're my guest."

"Can I at least have the chefs do dessert for us all? You know they're going to want a tour of the place."

He looked down at his empty dessert plate and smiled. "Sounds like a plan." He looked at his watch. "How about playing catch for a few minutes before I leave and you get back to being President?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

XXXXXXXXXX

**Wednesday, March 23, 2016**

Mac walked into the Oval Office the following morning and immediately heard loud voices coming from the outer office. She couldn't make out much of what was being said, but she distinctly heard something about "father" and "President." Curiosity piqued, she exited out the opposite door and walked around to the other side of the outer office.

"Come on, Cooper," Kelly said, her tone deliberately flirtatious, "It's just us. We won't tell anyone."

"Of course, not," Vince added. "Right, Laura?"

"Absolutely not. Top secret."

"There's nothing to tell," Cooper insisted.

"He was here all weekend, and back again yesterday. You don't honestly expect us to believe that there's nothing going on between them?" Kelly pressed. "We saw how they were together Friday night. They completely disappeared during the movie."

"And yesterday before the funeral you could cut have cut the sexual tension between them with a knife," Laura added.

"They're friends," Cooper responded, his voice rising to a slightly higher decibel. "He's helping her get ready to throw out the first pitch, and he came to the funeral to show his respects. He's a judge. It's no big deal."

"Would you tell us if something were going on?" Vince asked.

Cooper shook his head. "No way…. But there's not."

"Are you afraid of the boss? How she'd react?" Vince asked further.

"Are you kidding me?" he smirked. "All she can do is fire me. Now my Dad…"

"Then there is something going on," Kelly insisted.

Mac had heard enough. "Good morning everyone," she exclaimed loudly as she entered the office area. She was pleased to be greeted by shocked, sheepish faces and mumbled words of greeting in return. "Vince, Kelly, do you need me for something?" she asked with a sly wink directed towards Cooper as Laura hurriedly busied herself at her own desk.

"Uh…. No, ma'am," they said at the same time.

"Okay," she told them. "Well, you know where to find me if you do need anything." She turned to Cooper, who seemed to be enjoying her little performance and the reactions it was creating, "Do you have today's schedule?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said swallowing a smile. "Here you go."

"Thank you," Mac replied breezily as she walked back into the Oval. "See you all later."

She sat down at her desk with a chuckle. However, she knew it was only a matter of time before real speculation—public speculation—began. What would that do to their relationship? He hated that part of her job and all of the baggage that came along with it. In the end it all came down to what was more important: her or his privacy. She was afraid of the answer. Was it possible for him to have both?

She was still deep in thought when she heard a knock. "Come in," she called out.

"Good morning, Ma'am," her Chief of Staff declared.

"Morning, Jim. What can I do for you?"

He sat down across the desk. "I need to know how you want us to handle an issue that's come up."

"What issue?"

"Judge Calloway."

"Judge Calloway is an issue? What kind of an issue?"

"Well, the press corps is still after Kelly about being blocked from covering your return from the funeral yesterday. And they… and others want to know how about his presence with you yesterday. How do you want us to handle it?"

"First of all, I could care less that the press corps got their feelings hurt. I've given them more time and access than any president in recent memory."

"They're not the only ones asking questions."

"Who?" She leaned forward elbows on her desk.

"I got a call from Jayne Murray."

"Templeton's Chief of Staff? What did she say?"

"She wanted to know about your relationship, how long you've been involved, etc."

"What did you tell her?"

"That he is Cooper's father, a friend, and a member of the federal judiciary. That's it."

"Good. That's how I want you to handle it. Nothing else."

"Yes, ma'am. But at some point…."

"I know," she conceded with a sigh. "Let's try and put that off for as long as we can. He doesn't deserve the chaos that will erupt around him."

Jim nodded.

"What about you and Ms. Murray?" Mac asked.

"What?"

"Jim," she replied with a smile. "I've seen the way you look at her. Teddy may have tried to keep me out of sight, but I'm not blind or dumb."

"No, ma'am, you're not. We used to have a thing," he acknowledged.

"Until I got in the way?"

"That was part of it."

"A big part, I imagine."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Do you love her?"

Her question was met with silence. Finally, he said, "Yes, ma'am, I do."

"Then don't let her go."

"Ma'am, that's not…."

"I know," she said again leaning back in her chair. "There's a conflict of interest—or you see it as such. Remember James Carville and Mary Matlin? They managed to work around it. All I'm saying is that you have my trust and my blessing. Don't let pride or fear keep you from the love of your life, if that's what Jayne Murray is. It was the biggest mistake of my life."

"The Judge?"

"Perhaps," she answered with a coy smile. "What's next?"


	22. Between Yesterday and Today

**22. Between Yesterday and Today**

**Saturday, March 26, 2016**

"It didn't take you long to wake up," Mac said putting down her tennis racket and grabbing her towel.

Rod did the same. "What are you talking about? You were all over me that first set. Whipped me good."

"It was the only chance I had. Had to get to you while you were still sleep walking. But you more than got even with me that last one."

"Hardly. I won one more game against you in comparison. It sure felt good, though. I haven't played as much the past few years as I did when the twins were younger."

"Did you all play together?"

"Yeah," he acknowledged. "They're both good players. You know Cooper, he's never met a ball he doesn't like, and plays for the sheer sport of it."

"And Becca?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Well, like everything else in her life, she takes winning very seriously and losing very hard."

"Of course, she does. She's a Calloway. And what are you?" she teased.

"We are winners," he answered in an exaggerated New England drawl. "I can't believe you remember that stupid thing."

"How could I forget that corny accent of yours, and how adorable you were with Sydney before her soccer game when she was so nervous."

"Yeah, well…." He stammered.

"What can I say? It caught me off guard. I didn't know anything about competition," she replied with a smile.

"You wouldn't. You're such a pushover. A real wallflower."

She tried to whip him with her towel. But he was too quick.

"Are you sure you want to play this game?" he asked readying his own towel in response.

"No," she admitted.

"Smart move. Besides that's not the reason I played so much."

"It's not?"

He shook his head. "Tennis, like basketball, was therapy. Legalized assault. I got to take out all my frustrations with them on that little green ball, and swing a racket fast and hard at the same time."

"I don't believe you. I doubt those kids ever gave you a minute's trouble."

He chuckled sardonically. "They're kids. That's trouble enough sometimes. Do you want to play another set before they come over?"

She looked at her watch. "No. Let's head up."

"You're not tired, are you, Madam President?" he teased. "I thought you were in fighting shape."

"I am. I'm just saving my fight for that other little ball you love so much."

"How's it coming?"

She shrugged and picked up her jacket. "You'll just have to wait and see."

"I'm looking forward to it." He took the jacket from her hands and helped her into it before slipping into his own.

"At least the weather is better than last Saturday."

"Much." He picked up their water bottles and handed one to her.

"When do your parents get back? They are still planning on meeting us in Boston, aren't they?" she asked taking a drink.

"Thursday. And yes, they're still coming. That reminds me. Would you mind if Christopher joined us? He thought it sounded fun."

"I bet he did. He'll have a great time watching me make a complete fool out of myself."

"Watching you bring the heat you mean," he replied as he gathered up their rackets and balls.

"Yeah… that," she said unconvinced. "I'd love to have him join us. It's funny. It's been more than twenty years but I can only picture him as a fourteen-year-old football player with an aversion to public displays of affection and a secret crush on a sixteen year-old cheerleader."

"Don't worry. He still acts like it at times."

"I still envy you having brothers and sisters. You are so lucky that all of you are close."

"Can't imagine my life without them," he admitted. "My parents did a great job with helping us become friends in addition to siblings."

"I think their oldest son had a great deal to do with that, too," she told him.

"I hope so. Had responsibility drilled into my head every day." He drained the rest of his water. "I'm glad my twins have each other. I think it made it easier on them."

"How surprised were you when you learned they were twins?"

"Shocked and worried out of my mind. But thrilled, too. If that makes sense."

"Perfect sense. Were they premature like your sisters?"

"Early but luckily not _that_ early. They were a little small and had to learn to feed consistently and regulate their body temperatures. Otherwise though, they were healthy. Still it was exhausting. Luckily even then Cooper was mostly easy going and patient."

"As opposed to his sister?"

He smiled. "As opposed to his sister."

"I'm excited to meet her—finally. You know, it seems like both of them were aptly named. Although personally, I think Cooper should have had Roderic added to his name."

"Heaven help us," he exclaimed rolling his eyes. "You are the only one who likes that name."

"I love that name," she corrected softly, her brown eyes sparkling. "You're wrong, though. Your grandmother loves it, too."

"I think she mostly enjoys torturing Dad and me with it. I'm still not certain how he let Mom get away with giving that name to me."

"I'm sure Rebecca teamed up with her—and perhaps even with Gabriel. What was the poor guy to do?"

He laughed. "I'm sure you're right about that one. No man stands a chance when the Calloway women are united in a cause. Hey… want to sit in the garden for a few minutes before we go up?" he asked gesturing his head to the side.

"I'd love to," she readily agreed. "We've hardly had any chance to talk since the funeral."

Rod picked up their gear and they walked into the adjacent Children's Garden and sat by the fishpond. "This area is so quiet and secluded—so normal—that I could almost forget where we are."

"I think that's the thing I like most about the South grounds. I feel free out here. Initially I was shocked by how big the grounds are, and how many trees and stuff are out here. So big that I often forget that…."

"You're fenced in?"

"Yeah," she agreed. "So how was the rest of the week with the girls? Did they love their spa day?"

"Unfortunately. Had a hard time getting them to do anything else after that pampered treatment."

"Mea culpa. Sorry," she said sympathetically.

"Don't be," he assured her as their eyes met. "We had a good day, too."

"A very good day."

"Besides," he added with a smirk, "I was able to use it to guilt them into going fishing one afternoon."

Mac laughed. "Did you use eels with them, too?"

"I'd forgotten about the eels."

"I haven't." Involuntarily, she shuddered at the thought of those slimy creatures.

He laughed, too. "Sorry, eels don't make good bait for tropical fish."

"Great," she teased. "They get massages and manicures, and a genteel climate, while I got freezing temperatures and slime."

"You also got warm boat gear, a campfire, and me as a wind break," he reminded her.

"Yeah," she acknowledged with a sigh. "It was wonderful—all of it."

"Definitely a good day."

"Only good?"

"No," he answered with a shake of the head. "Perfect."

"For me, too. And what a surprise! I thought we'd be going to a movie and dinner. Instead I felt like the leading lady in some epic production. I still can't believe how much thought and effort you put into that day."

"I wanted it to be special for you… and I hoped you would come to love the water like I do."

As he spoke some of the pure contentment she experienced on that long ago day washed over her. "I hope you know, I do. How could I not? Everything about that day was like a dream."

"Except for the eels?"

"I don't know," she replied softly. "I may have to reconsider that one. Look what they led to?"

"Us flat on our backs on the deck?" he playfully suggested.

She nodded as a slight flush appeared on her face. "For starters."

"I wanted you so much," he added huskily.

"Me, too," she replied breathlessly. "Do you know what I regret most? That we didn't make love—then and especially that last night. I wonder about how different things might have been for us."

"What happened to you that night? We'd had such an amazing weekend and had never been closer. We were talking about marriage and family—our future. Then in an instant it all changed. All disappeared. What did I do? I've never known what it could have been."

"The problem was mine, and mine alone."

"But what was it, Mackenzie? Did I do something I shouldn't have? Say something?"

"Rod, no," she assured him. "You did nothing."

"Then what was it? Did someone do something to you before? Attack you?"

"No, it was nothing like that," she replied. "It was me—all me. I was stuck in the past, only I didn't realize it at the time."

"What, Mac? It had to be horrific because I will never forget the look on your face or the sound of your voice. Your skin was like ice. It was as if you'd been tortured. It broke my heart. But I couldn't reach you. You wouldn't talk, or let me even hold you, comfort you… love you. You completely shut me out. And the next day you accused me…." He stopped speaking and took a deep breath. "It doesn't matter."

She heard the anguish in his voice and her own heart split into pieces. Immediately she went and sat next to him on the little love seat. Taking his hand she told him. "You were wonderful with me—gentle, patient… loving. The timing was just unlucky."

"But how? Why?"

Hesitantly she began, "You mentioned that you'd wanted to make love with me the entire three months we were together and you see, David and I had been together three months, too, when we talked of marriage and had sex for the first time. Look how that turned out."

"I see."

"Anyway, I thought I was over him and ready to put it all behind me, and well, I wasn't. It hit me hard—paralyzed me. I couldn't think straight. Could hardly breathe."

When she finished he brought her hand to his lips and tenderly kissed her palm. "I'm sorry. I should have known. Shouldn't have pushed you."

"Rod, you never…."

"Yes, I did," he spoke over her. "It was wrong of me. You deserved better."

"That's not true! You were nothing but wonderful," she told him again. "Now you know."

"Now, I know," he repeated with sober reflection.

"Thank you for understanding. But it was all my fault."

"It was nobody's fault," he insisted. "It just happened. You're right. The timing all the way around was unlucky. It just wasn't meant to be."

"I suppose."

"Ready to go inside?"

She looked at her watch. "That's probably a good idea. Are you okay? Are _we_ okay?"

"Okay on both counts," he assured her. "Come on," he said standing and extending a hand to her. "Race you up to the house?"

Accepting his hand she asked, "You're still going to shower here, aren't you?"

"If I can use the Lincoln Bedroom." He picked up their gear.

"I think that can be arranged," she replied with an equally big smile.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Rod," Kate Allen said warmly as she entered the West Sitting Hall and saw him reading the newspaper.

Immediately he put the paper down and stood to greet her. "Madam Mom," he said with affection as he bent his head and kissed her on the cheek. "You get younger all the time."

She smiled up at him and patted his cheek. "It's wonderful to see you. Where's Mackenzie?"

"Doing whatever it is you women do to make yourselves even more beautiful. We played tennis this morning, and I was a quicker showering."

"And the twins?"

He looked at his watch. "Well, hopefully they are dragging their sorry behinds out of bed so they can join us for breakfast. Although I have no idea what time they got in last night. Teenagers!"

"Not for much longer. You've almost made it."

"That's almost more depressing," he answered with a disbelieving shake of the head. "Means I'm getting old."

She laughed. "Wait until they hit forty. Then you'll really feel old."

"I don't even want to contemplate that reality. I didn't think you were coming until this afternoon, at least that's what Mackenzie told me."

She sat down on the sofa adjacent to where he'd been sitting. "Took an earlier flight on a whim this morning. Decided I didn't want to miss out on any of the fun. Can you believe this whole thing?" she asked gesturing to their surroundings.

"That your daughter became the President of the United States?" he questioned as he too, sat down. "Absolutely. The only crazy thing is that I'm sitting here with you."

"Thank God that you are. I know," she added, "but you can't deny that in spite of everything you are good together and that you make each other happy. Nor can you deny that you've always kept the promise you made to Michael."

"What promise?"

"To help her fulfill her destiny."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, I think you do," she said when their eyes met. "Don't for one minute think that I don't know about your past contributions, or about what you've recently sacrificed for my daughter." After a moment's silence she added, "Well, thank you for both Michael and I."

Rod moved to sit next to her. "How are you, Kate? Really?"

She sighed. "It's lonely. I miss him more every day."

"I'm so sorry," he said placing a gentle hand on her leg. "I know how hard it is. It was lung cancer?"

Kate nodded. "It still seems like a sick joke. He had never smoked in his life—not even a single cigarette. He had none of the traditional risk factors. And it happened so fast. What about your wife?"

"With Lauren it attacked her brain."

"She was so young—all of you so young. In spite of the separations imposed by the Navy, I had decades with Michael. He got to raise his daughter—we got to raise her together. But you…." She shook her head. "What a tragedy!"

"It's always a tragedy."

"How old were the twins when she died?"

"Almost seven."

"Cooper told me he doesn't remember her not being sick."

"That's probably true. She fought it for more than two and a half years."

"That long?" she questioned. "Oh Rod, how did you do it? Four months about did me in, and you had the twins to worry about, too."

"I had a lot of help from our families and good friends like Cooper and Kim. Towards the end I quit working. I should have done it sooner. It was selfish of me."

"I know that's far from true," she insisted. "Obviously I haven't met young Rebecca yet. But I know your son and he is an incredible young man. He didn't get that way by himself."

"They are my life. I've been lucky. They are good kids. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't give them what she could. It's so unfair to them. If one of us had to die, it should have been me. They needed their mom." He sighed. "They still do."

She laid a comforting hand on his leg. "There's nothing I can say to convince you that you're wrong. Nothing I can do to stop you from feeling that way. So I won't even try."

"Thank you," he replied giving her hand a little squeeze.

"Do you ever have nightmares about those final days and hours? The hallowed-out eyes? The exhaustion and emaciation? The gasping for air?"

"I used to… a lot. With Lauren it was the memory loss. The days she couldn't recognize me, or the twins. It killed me watching her get frustrated, knowing that there was nothing I could do to ease her burden, or help the twins understand."

"How heartbreaking for you! How did you handle it with them? They were so young."

"Too young. On the good days the three of them spent as much time together as possible. On the so-so days we pretended Lauren was playing a memory game with them." He sighed. "And on the bad days, they stayed with friends or Lauren's parents. My family was frequently there, too. I wanted what few memories they would have of her to be good, happy ones."

"It seems to me you succeeded."

"I hope so. But she would have given them so much more. You mothers are just so much better at it." He shook his head as if to free himself from the chokehold of the past. "Well, it is what it is."

"And they are very lucky to have you."

"Yeah, well…." His voice trailed off with a shrug. "It's been almost two years with Michael?"

"May 16th. It seems like yesterday and a million years ago. I think I'll go visit his grave today."

"He's at Arlington?"

Kate nodded.

"Would you like some company?"

"I'd love it. But I don't want to take you away from time with the twins. And let's face it, going anywhere with my daughter is a joke."

He laughed. "That's the truth. I'd love to come with you if you'll allow me."

"Thank you. How about we play it by ear?"

"Whatever you want."

"You know Michael always believed you were the right man for Mackenzie."

"I thought so, too. But fate had other ideas."

"And now fate has intervened again and brought the two of you to a new crossroads."

"You have an amazing daughter. I've never known anyone like her. The nation—the world really—is so fortunate to have her."

"See?" she teased. "You're still her biggest supporter. That has not changed."

"What can I say?"

"And for the record, she's your biggest fan, too. Rod, I know what a challenge she can be. For as brilliant and ordinarily decisive as she is, she struggles mightily at times with matters of the heart. Not because she cares too little, but because she cares too much and yet…."

"She struggles with reconciling her sensitive soul with her overriding fear of appearing weak, vulnerable or anything other than perfect and content."

Kate smiled. "You've always understood."

"I wish I'd been more understanding when we dated. I was in such a hurry. I shouldn't have pressured her. I knew she wasn't ready. I should have been more patient and less selfish. But it's too late to change that now."

"The timing wasn't right then. But it's not your fault that she wasn't ready. In many ways, it wasn't her fault either."

"I know," he acknowledged. "That David character did a number on her. I'd like to rearrange his face. And unfortunately, she couldn't get past the hurt and fear to see…."

"That his decision was the best thing that could have happened to her?" Kate suggested. "And that without his choice the two of you never would have met or fallen in love?"

He nodded. "I'm not sure she's recognized that truth even after all these years."

"Be patient. She's come a long way. She'll figure it out eventually. She always does."

"I'm glad you're here, Kate."

"I could say the same for you."

He laughed.

"Tell me about the weekend plans? The who's and when's?"

"They seem to be constantly evolving. You know about Cooper playing Easter Bunny."

"I think that's wonderful. What a fun thing."

"Well, you know Junior, so shy and retiring. He hates parties."

Kate laughed.

"My sister, Alex, and her little girl, Grace, get into town later this afternoon with my grandmother. Alex's husband, Matt, will be here tomorrow morning along with my in-laws, William and Anne. I believe the Young's and the Brantley's will also be staying here tomorrow night for Monday's festivities."

"Good. It's much too quiet around here."

"Quiet?"

"You know what I mean."

He sighed. "Yeah, I do." Lately Atlanta had seemed unnaturally quiet, too. "You will get a kick out of little Gracie. She's darling, precocious, and has a perfect golf swing."

"The real question is can she throw a fastball? And is she available next Saturday?" Mackenzie interjected from her bedroom doorway as she joined them in the sitting area.

Rod began to stand.

"Don't get up," she told him before greeting her mother. "Did the police escorts use the sirens the entire way again, Mom?"

"I decided to be brave and fly."

"Really?" Mac asked taking a seat in an adjacent chair.

Kate nodded.

"That's a big step."

"This is a big weekend."

Mac shook her head with a grin and looked at Rod. "Only you and Daddy have the power to get her on a plane."

"Me?"

"You," she added catching her breath. "I'm sorry I was so long. Decided it would be smart to get the daily briefing out of the way before breakfast."

"Trouble?" he asked.

"Luckily, no. The world is pretty quiet at the moment—knock on wood. I bet you're starved. Any word from the twins?"

"Not yet." He felt in his pockets for his phone. "Left my phone in the other room, if you'll excuse me, I'll go call them."

Mac reached out and touched his hand. "I can do it." She picked up the house phone. "I need Cooper… thank you."

Within seconds the White House operator had him on the phone. While Mac spoke to him, Kate and Rod looked at each other and silently laughed.


	23. Meeting What Could Have Been Part II

**23. Meeting What Could Have Been, Part II**

**Saturday, March 26, 2016**

"They're on their way up," Mac told her mother and Rod after she hung up the phone with Cooper.

"That's a relief," he replied. "I won't have to resort to cold water in the face."

"You didn't really?" Mac asked in disbelief.

He grinned. "Only once. After that, the threat was enough."

They laughed.

"I never had to worry about that with her," Kate told him. "If anything, she was the one to get me up. If she was in bed past six-thirty or so, I knew she was sick."

"Always 'Miss Early Morning Sunshine,'" he teased.

"Sleeping is a waste of time," Mac said matter of fact.

"That's why she's the leader of the free world," he said to Kate in a stage whisper while cupping his hand to the side of his mouth.

Mac rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you're definitely a slacker, Judge Calloway. Particularly considering that some of us actually have to work for a living. I still can't believe that, by the way."

"I hope because it's not a big deal."

Seeing the earnest expression on his face she realized yet again how many conversations they never had the opportunity to have all those years ago. She'd figured almost from the beginning that his family had money, but she hadn't known anything about the extent of his personal wealth until the night before their breakup. It had come as something of a shock to her. Looking back she could see how it embarrassed him to have so much; and that it drove him to work hard and be his own man. The recognition that he had not changed made her smile. "It's not," she assured him. "It never was…. And the sleeping-in thing is _not_ my fault."

Kate laughed.

"Don't tell me it's genetic?" he asked.

"Don't look at me," Kate replied.

"Michael?" He asked looking at the older woman.

"Michael," she affirmed.

"A Daddy's girl in every way," he commented directing his attention to the girl in question.

"She always was—even with all the separations."

"What can I say?" Mac responded with a shrug.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Kate declared.

"It's a special thing," he acknowledged with a small sigh.

"Sounds like Becca's a Daddy's girl, too," Mac told him.

He shrugged but the pride in his eyes was unmistakable. "Well, she really didn't have much choice in the matter."

"Oh, somehow I think she was a Daddy's girl from the start. Cooper says she's spoiled."

He laughed. "Yeah, Junior's had it rough all right. A real martyr. So what time is wheel's up this afternoon?"

"Two. Are you sure you don't want to come?"

"Probably not a good idea. A funeral is one thing but..."

"Are you afraid to be seen with me?" she teased.

"Terrified," he teased back as Kate chuckled. "Besides I should pick up the girls at the airport. I don't want Alex having to worry about Nana, Grace and their luggage."

"I understand," Mac said. "Cooper doesn't need to go either if…."

"Mac," he interrupted. "It's his…."

"I know. It's his job. I'm just saying that if you want to spend some time together as a family I can get by."

"Thank you. But we're talking about fast cars. No way I can compete with that," he told her with an amused smirk. "Have you got tonight's speech down?"

"All six words. Been practicing relentlessly in the mirror."

He and Kate laughed.

"You laugh now but there will be 100,000 people in the stands and millions and millions more watching on television. If I screw this up, kiss any chance I have of winning in the South good-bye."

"The speech is only six words?" Kate asked in a curious but unconcerned manner.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, start your engines," Mac answered with aplomb in her President voice.

"She comes through like a champ," Rod told her. "Have you been to a race before?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you'll be amazed at how fast those cars go."

"Sounds like you've done this before."

"We've gone to some races at Atlanta Motor Speedway over the years. It's definitely a unique environment and a great place for people-watching."

"Do you think Becca would like to go with us?"

"I don't know," he said. "Ask her."

"You wouldn't mind?"

"Of course, not," he assured her.

"Then I think I will. Mom, do you want to come?"

"No, thank you, honey. I'd like to get out to the cemetery and the Pace's have invited me to dinner this evening."

"Please tell them hello. Daddy told me before he died that Peter would be a good resource, and he was right."

"General Peter Pace, former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs?" Rod guessed.

Kate nodded. "He and Michael became close friends over the years."

He nodded. Hearing voices down the hall, he stood up and commented, "Well, it's about time. Obviously no morning genes were passed on to those two."

XXXXXXXXXX

As he went to meet them, Kate turned to Mac, "Nervous?"

"A little," she conceded. "Girls are different than boys. With Cooper it's been easy from the beginning. He didn't know about our past, and he's so laid back. I just want her to feel comfortable and…."

"Want her to like you."

"Yeah," Mac said with a sigh before standing to greet them. "Morning, Junior," she said with a smile. Cooper was walking slightly ahead of his father and sister who were talking. Rod had an arm draped around her shoulders and appeared to be giving her a mini-tour of the place. The strong bond between father and daughter was instantly apparent.

"Hey, Madam… Mackenzie," he corrected after seeing her expression. "Mrs. Allen," he said to Kate, "I didn't think you were coming until later."

"Change of plans. Didn't want to miss any of the fun."

"Cool," he replied with a smile. "Okay if I read the sports page, boss?"

"Of course," Mac told him with a chuckle before turning her full attention to father and daughter.

"Honey," Rod said to Becca, "this is Mackenzie Alle…"

"Duh, Dad," Becca said lightly while rolling her eyes.

"It's wonderful finally to meet you," Mac told her with a warm smile. She looked taller than in the pictures Mac had seen—about 5'10" she guessed. And she was surprisingly petite. Lean and lanky like her father, she had blonde hair like her twin, but possessed big, deep brown eyes that somehow seemed magnified by long lashes Mac envied. Mascara was obviously not in her vocabulary. While Mac had not seen a photo of Lauren, Becca definitely took after her paternal grandmother.

"Thank you, Madam President," she said politely.

"For you I'm Mac or Mackenzie. Is that okay?"

"It's just a little surreal," she replied with a small smile.

"I know the feeling," Mac readily agreed. She put her arm around her mother. "And this is my mother, Kate Allen."

"I'm so glad you're here, Rebecca. It's a little intimidating at first. But you'll get used to it."

"Yeah right!" Becca muttered softly.

Mac found Rod's eyes and they shared a smile over his daughter's choice of words, which to her seemed to be a refrain implicit in the genetic makeup of every young Calloway.

"Are you hungry?" Mac asked. "I believe they have breakfast ready for us."

"Starved," Cooper immediately answered putting down the newspaper. "Are we eating up here?" he asked.

"If that's okay," Mac replied.

"Sure," he shrugged.

"Why don't you lead the way," she told him. "I hope you are hungry, too," she said to his twin as they began to follow Cooper into the small family dining room, which was situated next to kitchen on the north west side of the second floor.

"Yes, ma'am," Becca replied.

"And do you like bananas with peanut butter like your dad and brother?"

Becca made a face. "No ma'am."

"A woman after my own heart. I've never understood that particular food combination," Mac said. "Well, there should be lots of other choices for us. Thank you," she told Rod, who was holding the door for them.

"What's the occasion?" Cooper asked as he examined the buffet table that had been set out. "Is Chef Paul bored or something because there's like every possible breakfast food here?"

"Let's just say that your appetite has become legend around here, and well, we weren't sure what Becca would like. But dig in."

"Cool." He picked up a plate and began loading it up.

"Becca, Mom, why don't you go ahead," Mac said.

"Sure, honey," Kate said and gave Becca a plate.

"Hey, Dad," Cooper exclaimed about two-thirds down the table, "grits!"

"Really?" Rod said looking at Mackenzie.

"Really," she replied with a smile.

"I didn't think you liked them," he told her.

"I'm not sure I do," she admitted. "But you love them so I gave Chef Paul the task of creating the country's best cheese grits. He's been scouring recipe books and talking to southern chefs all week. He's most anxious to hear what you think."

"Mac, you didn't…."

"It's not like I made them myself."

He laughed and closed the short distance between them. "Thank you," he told her. "That was very thoughtful."

"You're welcome," she said sweetly. "It was the least I could do for my Secretary of…." Her voice trailed off and her sentence remained deliberately unfinished.

"Here," he said reaching around her for a couple of plates, "ladies first."

Her heart skipped a beat. Was it possible, or had she simply imagined, the unusual thickness in his voice. "Thank you," she said softly, her own voice filled with emotion.

XXXXXXXXXX

"How was spring break?" Mac asked Becca across the table a few minutes later. Rod was too her left at the head of the table while Cooper was seated next to her, and her mother next to Becca.

"It was cool."

"Sounds like the spa was amazing."

"Yes, ma'am," Becca agreed.

"It better have been," Rod added wryly but with a smile.

Mac smiled back before returning to Becca. "I'm jealous. Instead of a day of pampering, I got stuck making a long speech in a dreary black suit."

"It was good."

"You saw it?"

She shrugged. "The other night on CSPAN. Dad was watching. It wasn't boring at all."

"Thank you. Your Dad wrote it."

"Seriously?" Cooper asked in disbelief.

"He's the word master," Mac answered.

"Yeah right! I'm sure Cam or Mary wrote it," Cooper said in reply.

"Cam or Mary?" Mac asked.

"His law clerks," Becca explained.

Cooper piped in. "They're married and awesome. They do everything for him."

Finally Rod spoke. "They don't believe I do any work. Think I wear the robe because I get off on people calling me 'Your Honor.'"

"Well, if the robe fits…." Mac teased.

"Like a glove. Thank you very much, Madam President," he threw back with deliberate emphasis on the Madam.

"Touché!" Mac laughingly replied before telling the twins, "By the way, he wrote every word. He just won't admit it."

"Can't have people confusing the executive and the judicial," Rod explained.

Cooper and Mac rolled their eyes. "Whatever!" they said in perfect harmony.

"I'm supposed to be apolitical, remember?" he insisted.

"Well, we promise not to tell," Mac assured him as she bravely took a bite of grits. "And it was an amazing speech."

"Incredible," Kate said leaning forward to make eye contact with him.

"You know, these aren't too bad," Mac said taking another bite.

"It's all in the execution," Rod informed her. "My compliments to Chef Paul."

"They are really good," Cooper echoed. "Even better than Dad's."

"No argument from me, there," Rod agreed finishing off the helping on his plate.

Mac was pleased. "He'll be thrilled. Wait until you see what he has planned for desert tomorrow."

"Better than the napoleon?"

"So I've been told," she replied.

"We should have played that third set this morning," he informed her.

"Don't I know it," Mac agreed. "Next time you'll have to join us. Your Dad says the two of you are terrors on the court, but I think we can take you."

"Only if we play at a normal hour and not the middle of the night. And no way," Cooper said with a smirk. "Right, Bec?"

"Sure," Becca shrugged.

"How was fishing the other day?" Mac asked her.

"It was okay," Becca told her.

"Your father took me fishing one day in law school."

"Why would you agree to that?" Cooper asked. "He fishes forever."

"I didn't," Mac explained with a smile. "He surprised me. Not only that…. He had live eels for bait."

Becca made a face. "He tried that with us. Not even Cooper would touch them."

Mac looked to Rod with a smug self-satisfaction.

"Fishing is a stupid sport. It shouldn't even be called a sport," Cooper protested. "I mean, who cares who catches the biggest fish?"

"It doesn't include a ball," Rod clarified once the chuckles had died down. "Y'all are just sissies!"

"So," Mac asked Cooper, "I take it you never got taken for a ride by a big fish because you wouldn't let go of the pole?"

Everyone laughed.

"I'd forgotten about that," Rod commented through his own laughter.

"You must have been so geeky as a kid," Cooper said.

"Hey… I was only five. And I'm not the only one at the table with a fish story," he said looking directly at Mackenzie.

"Anybody ready for seconds?" Mac said changing the subject.

"No," Kate and Cooper exclaimed.

"We want to hear _your_ fish story," Kate needlessly added.

Mac nodded in resignation. "Well, I was with your Dad and hooked a huge fish…. And that's no fish story. It was big."

"See… It's the eels!"

"Whatever!" Cooper and Mac said again only this time joined by Becca.

"Anyway I had to fight it hard. I was reeling it in and had got it almost out of the water when an even bigger fish jumped up and ate half of my fish. I was so surprised that I completely lost my balance…"

"She stepped all over me and I lost my balance, too."

"And we both ended up flat on our backs, completely out of breath." She sighed. "And I haven't been fishing since."

"That must have been awesome!" Cooper exclaimed.

"It was certainly unforgettable," Mac said catching Rod's eyes. "We ended up having chicken and smores for dinner over a campfire on the beach…."

After a long second, she turned to Becca. "I have to fly to Charlotte this afternoon to do a thing at the NASCAR race. Cooper's coming. Would you like to come, too?"

"Are you coming, Dad?"

He shook his head. "I'm going with Kate to the cemetery and then picking up G.G., Alex and Grace at the airport."

"Come with us, Bec," Cooper said excitedly. "It's Air Force One…."

"I don't know. The men's basketball team plays early tonight and if they win they go to the Final Four."

"Duke?" Mac asked.

Becca nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Her boyfriend's on the team," Cooper announced to the table.

"Coop, shut up!" Becca said hitting him. "He's not my boyfriend," she told the rest of them. "We just barely met and have gone out a couple of times is all."

Rod put down his fork. "Who is he, Bec? Where did you meet?"

"Chill, Dad," Becca told him. "He's a good guy. We met at the athletic center. Besides he's a freshman. It's not like we're going to get serious or anything."

Rod growled skeptically. "What's his name? Where's he from?"

"His name is Jamison, okay? Jamison Kennedy."

Rod growled again. "Looks like I'll be paying a visit to Durham very soon."

"Dad…"

Mac came to her rescue. "You know we can watch the game on the plane. They can even record it for us if it starts before we get back."

"Come on, Bec. It will be great."

Becca looked at her father and decided that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea. "Sure, why not?"

"Terrific," Mac told her. "I also have a favor to ask you."

"You're the President," Becca replied with a look that conveyed total disbelief.

"True, but I'm no artist. I have it on good authority that you are a terrific artist and interior designer, and I need your help."

Becca eyed her skeptically.

"Your Dad thinks I should redecorate the Oval Office."

"He's right, Mackenzie," Kate interjected. "I've been telling you for months that you need to mark your territory."

"I know he's right," Mac acknowledged with a smile before looking at Rod. "But I will pay for it myself."

He nodded in agreement.

"Anyway Becca, I'm hopeless when it comes to this kind of stuff, and I was hoping you'd take a look at it and give me some advice."

"You're serious?" Cooper asked.

"Yes," she told him. She looked again at Becca. "I'd love for you to help me—if you wouldn't mind."

"Sure."

"Is everyone finished?" Mac asked looking around. Receiving nods of agreement, she added, "Would now be a good time?"

Becca looked at her father and then said, "I guess."

XXXXXXXXXX

"What do you think?" Mac said to Becca ten minutes later as they stood in the Oval Office.

"Well…." Becca looked to her father who was sitting on one of the couches messing around with his PDA.

"That bad?" Mac asked.

"No," Becca replied definitively turning back to face her. "It's just…. Well, it's just kind of masculine is all."

Mac looked around again. "You're right. But I…."

"You can't make it girly or sissy, Bec."

"Duh, Coop. It's not like I would suggest putting lace doilies and pink afghan's everywhere."

Mac and Rod laughed.

"I'm just saying…." Cooper said defensively.

Becca ignored him. "Ma'am, what about the gold curtains?" she asked pointing to the windows behind the desk. "Do they have to stay?"

"No," Mac answered with a smile. "Pretty ugly, huh?"

"Awful."

"But the flags have to stay. And the fireplace and George Washington… And the seal on the ceiling," Cooper told her.

She looked at him with a smirk. "What are you? Rain Man?"

"Ha, ha," he shot back.

"He has to give a lot of tours," Mac explained coming to his defense. "He needs to know everything."

"Okay," Becca said ignoring the smug look on her twin's face. "Why are there eight point stars in the ceiling?"

"Somebody screwed up," Mac informed her. "Truman decided to leave it rather than to fix it."

Rod pocketed his PDA and looked up at the ceiling from where he sat on one of the sofas. "I didn't know that," he said.

"There's a lot you still don't know," Mac said messing up his hair from behind.

He looked over his shoulder until her face came into view. "Apparently so," he grinned.

Mac smiled back then told Becca. "The only other thing I'd like to keep is the flag painting."

"You mean _The Avenue in the Rain?_"

"Yes," Mac replied.

"How'd you know the name, Bec?" Cooper asked.

"Not all my classes are pre-med, you know."

"Obviously not," he conceded taking a seat on the sofa opposite to their father.

"Do you like it?" Mac asked her.

"Yeah, it's great. Very patriotic."

"I like it right in that spot, too."

"How come, boss?" Cooper asked her.

"Oh, for personal, sentimental reasons," she answered vaguely, her voice laced with emotion, as she sat next to Rod.

"Oh… okay," Cooper said with a furrowed brow. "But you're not at all sentimental."

"That's what you think, Junior," Rod said looking over at Mackenzie.

Mac smiled at him. After a long moment, she turned towards Cooper. "Let's keep it that way."

"Yes, ma'am," he answered.

"So what do you think, Rebecca? Got some ideas?" Rod asked his daughter.

Becca looked around the office again. "I don't know. It's not like I'm an expert or anything. I mean any designer in the country would jump at the chance."

"I don't want anyone," Mac insisted. "I want you."

"Aunt Syd will help, honey."

"Oh yeah! She's the best," Becca agreed with a smile walking back to where the others were seated. "Madam President?"

"You really can call me Mac. We're not in public."

Becca looked at Rod.

"It's all right, honey," Rod assured her.

"Okay…. Mac, what colors do you like?"

"Personally, I like warm autumn colors—although my favorite color is grey-green. But we probably better stick with primary colors, don't you think?"

"Probably," Becca agreed. "Especially with the painting. I think we should lighten things up though. But not too much yellow."

"Cooper turn on the bright lights," Mac told him.

He nodded and did as he was told.

"We have cameras in here on a daily basis, both for photos and television, so…."

"Forgot about that," Becca said. "Hmm…" She began to think aloud as she studied the room in the bright lights. "So the trick will be finding the right balance…." For a long minute she silently studied the room then snapping out of her reverie, she asked, "Is it okay if I go get my camera and sketch pad from the hotel so I can get started?"

Mac smiled. "Of course."

"Coop, come with me."

"They'll let you back in, Bec," he replied with a smirk.

"Cooper," Rod said.

"Fine," he conceded. "It's no big deal. Let's go."

XXXXXXXXXX

After they left, Rod shifted positions to face Mackenzie. "You are full of surprises today, aren't you?"

She smiled and raised her eyebrows in unspoken agreement.

"Are you sure about this? Last weekend when I mentioned Becca and Syd, I didn't mean…."

"Rod, it was a great idea. I'm thrilled she's interested."

"She might turn the whole room Art Deco, you know."

"I don't think so," she said with a small shake of her head. "I know all about the education she received from her father in American history. Rod, did you see how focused she became? She'll do fantastic. Besides," she shrugged, "what have I got to lose? And we can get her all the help she needs."

He laughed. "Spoken like the shrewd politician you are. What changed your mind about doing it?"

"You know exactly _who_ is responsible."

"It's the smart thing to do. I think personally you'll be happier with it, too." He looked around the room and then looked her squarely in the face. "Mackenzie, this isn't you."

She sighed. "Maybe."

"I know what will change it."

"What?"

"Your election."

"My election?"

"Uh huh," he said. "Stubborn and strong as you are—and you are both, I know all the criticism calling you the 'Accidental President' is taking its toll."

She was shocked at his declaration. "Rod, I've never said…."

"You don't have to…. But I'm right."

Uncertain of what to say, she nodded.

"I know you hate that it gets to you because you're convinced it's a weakness. But you're wrong. I'd be more worried if it didn't get to you. I want a President who feels—feels deeply."

She stared into his face trying to understand how he could be so supportive and yet so reluctant when it came to her job. Did he know? Would he let her in? There was only one way to find out. Without taking her eyes off him, she asked quietly, "Tell me what you honestly think? Am I crazy?"

"Crazy?"

"For thinking I can win…. For wanting to win?"

"No," he replied without hesitation. "You are not crazy."

"But is it worth the inevitable costs… well, to everyone I care about?"

"I don't know," he said thoughtfully while shaking his head. "That's not for me to say. Only you can answer that question. But I do know this… There's nobody on the planet who can do the job any better."

"But…."

He smiled. She knew him too well to accept that for an answer. "But," he acknowledged, "I worry."

"About Cooper?" she questioned. "Rod, I would never knowingly put him in harm's way. I would sacrifice my life first."

"I know," he said hoarsely. "I know you would. That's not what I meant."

"It isn't?" She held her breath. Could he mean what she hoped he meant?

He shook his head. "No."

Softly she pressed, "You worry about me?"

"Yes."

Her heart seemed to stop and speed up at the same time. "I know the danger is real. But all I can do is trust my people. I can't live afraid."

"I know. I wouldn't want you to be that way. But honey, don't ask me not to worry. I can't do it."

She smiled. How could she have been so blind before? Not seen clearly what he'd offered her all those years ago? "I'm glad. I will be careful. I promise."

He nodded. "Okay…. Listen, if you want to use this time before the twins get back to work, don't let me keep you."

"Aren't you the one who told me I needed a vacation? Well, it's Easter and I'm on vacation."

He laughed but gave her a knowing look.

"All right," she reluctantly conceded. "I worked half the night."

"That's more like it. Need a nap?"

"A nap? What a waste!"

"Are you kidding me? A nap can be one of life's great pleasures. You have been seriously deprived."

"Apparently so…."

"So what's your schedule like next week?"

She sighed and tried to remember. "Appointments Monday afternoon, Cabinet Meeting on Wednesday morning, and out campaigning Thursday and Friday. Saturday, of course, is Boston. Otherwise I have no idea. You?"

"In the office through Wednesday. But I'll be in Berkeley on Thursday and Friday judging a moot court competition."

"Isn't that what brought you to town a few weeks ago?"

"You mean when you ambushed me?" he teased.

"I prefer to think of it as taking matters into my own hands and speeding up the inevitable."

"Oh, you definitely did that…"

"And you're extremely grateful because you missed me and thoroughly enjoy having me around."

"That's your story, huh?"

"Uh huh."

He smiled. "Well, far be it from me to disagree with the President of the United States."

Her big brown eyes sparkled. With a wide grin of her own she asked, "Do you finish late out there Friday?"

"No. Mid-morning. Only the final round is Friday. Are you coming back here on Friday?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Late afternoon I think."

"Anything on the schedule?"

"You, I hope. I'd love another pitching session with my coach. Afterwards I thought we could just chill over dinner and a movie. I know I'm a pain and you're probably sick to death of hotel beds, and if you have other plans, I…."

"You're not going to make me watch a chick flick, are you?"

"Maybe," she answered with a coy smile.

"All right," he said in an exaggerated tone, "I give in. But I get veto power."

"Deal," she readily agreed.

"Think I can bum a ride off you to Boston?"

She smiled. "I think that can be arranged. You're really willing to be seen with me?"

"I'm thinking about it. Don't want to be the only one who hasn't ridden on that plane."

"You could come today, too, you know."

He shrugged. "I don't want Kate going to the cemetery alone. And I need to be at the airport to help Alex."

"You are amazing."

"Hardly," he said deflecting her compliment. "Do you want to get some practice in while Becca does her thing?"

"I'd love it. I'll go get my glove." She stood and walked towards the door.

"Are you ready to show me some heat?" he playfully called out before she left the room

She turned and smiled provocatively. "Perhaps. The real question is whether you're prepared to catch it if I do."


	24. Family Affairs

**24. Family Affairs**

**Saturday, March 26, 2016**

"Was that Becca?" Alexandra Calloway Craig asked her brother as they walked around the World War II Memorial Saturday night.

"Mackenzie," Rod replied as he slipped his phone back into the pocket of his jeans. "The twins went to meet friends at a club. She's wondering if we want to come over. I told her you weren't interested."

"You are just mean," Alex protested.

"He's not mean, Mommy. He's the nicest Uncle ever!" Grace said coming to his defense.

"That's right, Mommy," he echoed with a grin before bending to pick Grace up. However, his smile disappeared when he saw the grimace on Alex's face and the way she was rubbing the side of her abdomen through her open jacket. "You okay, sis?"

"I'm fine," she assured him taking a deep breath. "Just a twinge."

"You sure?" He asked again because she appeared to be in real pain.

"I'm sure," she told him while continuing to rub the lower right side of her belly. "It's perfectly normal. Just the ligaments stretching to accommodate your nephew. You remember how it is."

"Yeah," he answered with a small nod. He did remember. But it felt like another lifetime. He had loved that time—the joy and anticipation. But he couldn't go back there. It would mean reliving….

"Rod?"

He looked down to see his sister gently touching his arm, a worried expression on her face. Grace, on the other hand, looked confused. He felt himself flush. He'd forgotten she was still in his arms.

"You okay?" Alex asked. "I didn't mean to bring up the…."

He smiled weakly, bent his head and kissed her on the forehead. "I'm fine. You did nothing," he assured her. Then wrapping his free arm around her shoulder, he gave her a little squeeze and said, "Let me get us a cab back to the hotel. You can rest, put your feet up, and I'll take Gracie with me."

She pulled away, put her hands on her hips and turned to face him. "No way am I missing out on tonight."

He looked at her close and gave in when he saw she was absolutely set on her course. "Okay. But I'll hail a cab anyway."

"No, you won't," she said with a decisive shake of the head. "You're worse than Matt. It's only a few blocks and walking is good for me."

"All right. All right," he replied raising his right hand in surrender. "You win." He looked indulgently down at Grace. "Want to go see my friend, Mackenzie? You remember, who we made the bear for?"

"You mean Madam President?" Grace asked.

"Yes," he answered with a smile, "I mean Madam President."

"Mommy and I watched her on the news. She's pretty."

"Yes, she is," he laughingly agreed. "Want to go see her?"

Grace shook her head. "I want to go up there." She pointed across the street to the Washington Monument. "You said we get to ride in a big elevator all the way to the top."

He looked at his watch. "I know. But I meant tomorrow after church. It's closed tonight."

"But I really want to see it. You said it was really, really cool and that we could see forever from up there."

He and Alex shared a smile over the top of her little head. "I know. But guess what?"

"What?" Grace asked skeptically.

"You'll be able to see even farther—like to infinity and beyond, in the day time."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Really. You'll like President Allen. She's nice. And she's very excited to see you. I bet she even has a surprise for you."

"Really?"

"Uh huh. So what do you say?"

Grace shrugged. "Okay. But I still really, really want to go up in the tower. You promise?"

"I promise."

"Cross your heart and hope to die? Stick a needle in your eye?"

Alex laughed.

"Stick a needle in my eye?" he repeated while tickling her. "Who told you that?"

"Cooper," she said matter of fact.

Rod rolled his eyes. "I should have known. Well, let's go. Sure you don't want to take a cab?" he asked Alex.

"I'm sure."

He nodded and again looked at his niece. "Want to ride on my shoulders?"

"Yes, please," she replied with a big grin.

XXXXXXXXXX

Rod lifted her over his head and the three of them walked the few blocks to the southeast gate of the White House. As they went, he pointed out some of the landmarks including the Ellipse, where Cooper played football and where the big Christmas tree stood that the President helped to light each year during the annual Pageant of Peace.

"Is this like a jail?" Grace asked as they walked along the southern fence line, which was heavily patrolled by the Secret Service.

"A jail?" Rod asked in disbelief, tilting his head to try and look up at her. "Who told you about jails?"

"Cooper."

Alex laughed while he rolled his eyes.

"When he was babysitting me he said that if I was naughty I'd have to go to jail and be locked up behind a big fence with lots of guards and police. Becca said that he was crazy and that I could do whatever I want. Becca is really smart."

"Yes, she is," he said with a chuckle. "And so are you." He lifted her back over his head and down to the ground. "Think you can walk now?"

"Uh huh," she told him. "But _is_ this like a jail? It looks like one."

Rod smiled. "Why don't you ask Madam President. She's really smart, too."

"Okay," she shrugged.

"Good evening, Judge," one of the agents manning the entrance said.

"Evening," Rod replied. "This is my sister…."

"Alexandra and your niece, Grace," the agent interjected. "Welcome to the White House, Mrs. Craig."

"Thank you," Alex answered with a warm smile.

"Sir, the President is waiting for you."

"Thank you," Rod said. He picked up Grace and carried her through to the security center.

Once they were inside he set Grace down and asked the agent at the x-ray machine, "Do you want us to?" Usually he didn't worry about it, but tonight he wasn't alone.

"Not necessary, Sir."

He nodded and then Grace touched his hand.

"Is this an airport, too?" she asked pointing to the metal detector. "What happens if we beep? Will we be in trouble?"

All the adults chuckled.

"It's okay," the agent closest to them told her with a rare smile. She bent down and said warmly, "You don't have to worry. This isn't an airport. But frequently a big helicopter lands on the grass."

"Really?" Grace asked.

"Really," she replied.

Grace looked up. "Can I see it, Uncle Rod?"

"You'll have to ask President Allen," he said as took her hand and walked her through the metal detector after his sister.

"Ask me what?" Mac asked from a few feet inside the exit as the door closed behind her. She'd grown restless waiting and had decided to walk down and meet them. She knew Rod preferred the southeast gate because it was more private. She felt her pulse quicken when she saw the smiles on Rod and Alex's faces as she walked towards them.

Picking up Grace, Rod said, "Hey…" He could hear the hoarseness in his voice and how uneven his breath had become. She was wearing designer jeans and her _Women Who Behave_ sweatshirt and looked about twenty-five—a very beautiful twenty-five. He tried to keep himself from having such thoughts. They couldn't be what they once were. Too many obstacles stood in their way. Forcing his mind back to the topic at hand, he said lightly, "It appears we've got another helicopter fan. Gracie wants to know if she can see _Marine One_."

Mac smiled. "A very smart helicopter fan by the sound of it."

"Absolutely," he agreed, giving Grace an affectionate bounce in his arms.

"Hello, Grace," Mac said with a warm smile. "I'm Mackenzie."

"Hello," she answered shyly.

"Where did you get your big brown eyes from?" Mac asked.

"From Daddy. My auburn hair, too," Grace answered with a little more confidence. She turned in her uncle's arms and whispered loudly to him, "She's really tall and more pretty than on television."

He chuckled and whispered back, "Yes, she is."

Mac felt herself flush and quickly turned her attention elsewhere. "Hello, Alexandra. I'm so glad you were able to join us."

"Madam President, thank you for the invitation. You look incredible. I swear you've hardly changed at all."

Mac laughed. "If only that were true. Congratulations on the baby. How are you feeling?"

"Very well, thank you." Instinctively Alex rested a hand across her growing abdomen. "So far it's been an easy pregnancy—knock on wood."

"I'm so glad," Mac told her sincerely. "You look absolutely stunning." Unlike her twin sister, Alexandra had inherited her mother's petite height and frame, along with the Calloway dark hair and their father's bright blue eyes. She'd matured from a cute teenager into a strikingly beautiful woman.

"If only that were true," Alex threw back with a smile. "Love the sweatshirt. It reminds me of…"

"_Real Men Marry Lawyers_?" She suggested with a twinkle in her own brown eyes. "Isn't it great? Well, he's always had a way with words."

Alex chuckled while Rod shrugged.

"Where's Rebecca?" Mac asked them.

"She has a little cold and decided to stay in tonight," Rod told her.

"That's too bad. Do we need to send a doctor over?"

"No," Alex replied, "She'll be fine. I think flying just took a little out of her. But thank you."

Mac nodded. "Well, let's go inside and we can really catch up."

"Sounds great," Alex answered.

Mac and Alex led the way with Rod and Grace following behind. On the way up the driveway and through the East Entrance and Ground Floor, Mac gave her guests a mini-tour.

As they approached the elevator at the end of the hall, Grace again loudly whispered to her uncle, "Madam President has an elevator in her house?"

"Yes, she does," he whispered back while sharing a smile with Mackenzie and Alex.

"Do you like elevators?" Mac asked her as they stepped inside.

Grace nodded.

"I bet you like to push the buttons," she said with a big smile.

Grace nodded again.

"Would you like to help me push the button? I bet Agent Pearson will let us do it if we ask real nice."

"Yes, please," Grace replied with a shy smile. Rod set her down and at Mac's direction she pushed the "2."

Meanwhile, Alex discretely whispered to Rod, "We're not in Kansas anymore."

"I know," he whispered back with a crooked grin. "It still feels that way to me, too."

Immediately upon their exit, Usher Waverly was waiting for them. "Good evening, Mr. Waverly," Rod told him while assisting Alex with her jacket while Mac did the same with Grace.

"Good evening, Sir," he replied before accepting the jackets. He turned to his boss, "Do you need anything, ma'am?"

Mac looked at her guests. "I know you've had dinner but how about some dessert?"

"Nothing for me," Rod told her taking off his own jacket. "I'm saving up for tomorrow."

"Alex?"

She shook her head. "I wouldn't dare."

"Would it be okay if Grace?" Mac asked her.

"Of course."

Mac bent down to talk to Grace, who was now standing very close to her uncle seemingly mesmerized by her new surroundings. "Do you like ice cream?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Grace answered shyly.

Mac put a finger to her temple pretending to think. "Chocolate?"

Grace nodded with a smile.

"With marshmallow topping and sprinkles?"

Her little eyes grew wider and her smile bigger.

"That's my favorite, too." Mac turned to Mr. Waverly and said, "We'll take two chocolate and marshmallow sundae's with sprinkles… and a plate full of cookies."

At this Grace began to giggle.

"Right away, ma'am," Mr. Waverly replied. "Anything to drink, ma'am?"

"Ice water, please," she replied while standing back up to her full height. "Rod? Alex?"

"Water would be wonderful, thank you," Alex said.

"Works for me, too," Rod agreed. "Thank you, Mr. Waverly."

"You're welcome, Sir." Quickly and quietly Mr. Waverly made his exit.

"Is the Yellow Room okay?" Mac asked Rod.

"You love that room, don't you?" He responded with an amused chuckle.

"Yeah," she acknowledged with a little smile meeting his gaze.

"I do, too."

For a moment it felt to Mac that they were the only two people on earth. It was such an amazing feeling. If only it could truly be that way between them. But there was no point on dwelling on it. She gave him a smile before proceeding down the hall to the center of the Residence. On the way, she pointed out various rooms to Alex—her bedroom, the Treaty Room, which she used as a home office, the kitchen and family dining room.

"This is like living in a museum," Alex commented as they walked.

"I know," Mac agreed. "It's a little overwhelming at times. That's why I love this room, and the view," she added as they walked into the big oval room, which was used as a family room. The pale yellow hues made the room light and airy while the furnishings were quasi-formal yet inviting and comfortable. It was easy to shut the world out here.

"It's beautiful," Alex told her as she studied the décor. "But homey, too… if that makes sense."

"Perfect sense," Mac said. "Let's sit down. It sounds like you've been on your feet all evening."

"Don't look at me," Rod protested.

Alex chuckled. "It's been fine. I was the one who insisted on walking. But I'm certainly ready and willing to sit now," she said shifting positions. "He's been kicking up a storm."

Mac laughed, even as her eyes were curiously drawn down towards the "he" in question. It occurred to her how very little she knew about pregnancy and babies. Resting her hand on the back of an overstuffed chair and ottoman, she said, "Well then, take a load off and put your feet up."

"Thank you," Alex said, taking a seat.

"It's my favorite spot," she replied warmly. She felt a breeze enter the room and looked up to discover that Rod had taken Grace outside onto the Truman Balcony. "Excuse me, a minute," she told Alex with a wink.

"Of course," Alex replied putting her feet up on the ottoman.

Mac smiled as she approached them from behind. She put a hand on his back and asked, "What are you two looking at?"

He turned and smiled. Placing his free arm around her shoulders, he said, "Just showing Gracie the lay of the land—the South Fountain, Washington Monument and Jefferson Memorial. And down there," he said directing his niece to the South Lawn, "is where the helicopter lands."

"Cool! But I want to go up there," Grace replied pointing to the top of the obelisk.

"You do?" Mac asked turning towards her. It occurred to her that it had been decades since she'd been inside the Monument.

"Uh huh," she nodded. "It has a big, fast elevator. But Uncle Rod says I have to wait because it's closed now."

"I bet you can go tomorrow. You'll be able to see better, too."

Grace nodded. "That's what he said. You promised, didn't you, Uncle Rod? Stick a needle in your eye promise."

Rod and Mac chuckled.

"That's right," he agreed. "I promised."

"And he always keeps his promises," Mac assured her. "Do you want to go back inside? I bet our ice cream will be here any minute. I have a surprise for you, too."

"Really?" Grace asked excitedly.

"Really."

"See… I told you," Rod told her affectionately as he put her down.

Mac held out her hand. Grace gladly accepted it and the three of them walked inside. She ran over to her mother. "Guess what, Mommy? Madam President has a surprise for me!"

"She does?" Alex said with a smile. "She must like you."

"Uh huh," Grace nodded.

"I'll be right back," Mac told them.

However, she was delayed yet again by Nora with questions about tomorrow's plans. _How on earth did Grace Bridges survive that woman for so many years_, she said to herself and _Mister_ bear when she finally was able to get her off the phone and actually do what she came to her bedroom to do. Before leaving the room she shed her sweatshirt in favor of her favorite navy long sleeve, V-neck tee shirt. By the time she returned, their ice cream had arrived and Gracie was sitting on the floor next to the coffee table happily enjoying her treat with her uncle behind and to the left of her on the sofa and Alex still comfortably stretched out in her favorite chair, glass of ice water in hand. She realized yet again what a blessing it was to be surrounded by family, and how tired she was of coming home to an empty house.

"Sorry," she told them setting the little backpack that was part of the surprise down by an end table. "That took a little longer than I would have liked."

"Trouble?" Rod asked.

"Yeah… but not President stuff," she said wryly while picking up a cookie.

"First Lady stuff again?" he suggested with a knowing grin.

"I need a wife!" she exclaimed with a sigh before taking a bite out of the cookie.

Alex laughed.

"Now there's an interesting political prospect," he teased.

"You are so bad," she said through an involuntary smile.

"Come sit down and eat your ice cream," he told her patting the spot next to him.

"Thank you," she said walking in front of him, "but I think I'm going to sit right here on the floor and eat my ice cream with Grace." However, she positioned herself directly in front of him so that she was virtually sitting at his feet.

"I think someone's shamelessly angling for a neck and shoulder massage," he whispered playfully in her ear.

"If that's an offer," she replied, "I certainly won't turn it down."

"Of course, not," he said while nonetheless beginning to knead her shoulders and neck muscles with his hands.

Mac closed her eyes and practically began to drool. He had the most amazing hands.

With a big smile, Alex said, "Can I be next for some of that action?"

"Absolutely," he told her. "Come on over."

She stretched. "On second thought, I think I'm too comfortable to move. I'm going to have to get one of these chairs."

"I told you," Mac told her with a smile.

"You ought to consider holding diplomatic summits in chairs like this," Alex suggested.

"We'd probably get a lot more accomplished," Mac agreed. She reached for her ice cream and noticed that a chunk of it was missing. "Hey…" she said, "someone's been eating my sundae."

"It was Uncle Rod," Grace informed her. "He ate some cookies, too."

"He did?"

"That was supposed to be a secret," he protested reaching down to tickle her. "Now you'll have to give me a bite of yours."

"No way!" Gracie said moving outside of his reach.

"Well, then I guess I'll have to have some more of Madam President's," he said. "She's ticklish, too. But there's no place for her to escape."

She tried in vain to move herself and her ice cream out of the way as Grace giggled in delight and Alex looked on the scene with pleasure. Of course, all it took for her to acquiesce was a single finger traced lightly up along her spine. After that, she offered no resistance when he reached around her and picked up the little sundae dish and took a big bite.

"I think I have a new vice," he told her after yet another bite.

"Hey…" she complained, twisting towards him. "At least save a little bit for me."

"What's in it for me?" he asked. But he filled the spoon with ice cream and fed it to her before handing the dish and spoon back to her.

"Mommy?" Grace said. "I have to use the bathroom."

Alex sighed and began to get up but Mac gestured for her to sit back down. "Will you let me take you?" she asked the little girl in question.

"Okay," she shrugged.

Rod put a hand on her shoulder to stop her from getting up. "I'll do it. If it's okay, I'll take her downstairs and show her the China Room, too? Her teacher apparently told her about all the dishes."

"You know it is."

"Come on, Gracie," he said standing and extending his hand to her.

XXXXXXXXXX

After the two of them left the room, Mac said, "She's adorable, Alex."

"Thank you," Alex replied. "She's the best thing ever to happen to me—she and her brother," she added, stroking her stomach. "Aside from their father, I mean. And she's crazy about her uncle."

"Oh… I think that's a mutual thing," she told her while taking a seat on the now unoccupied sofa and taking one last bite of ice cream.

"He's always been so good with kids."

"Including you, Syd and Christopher."

"Yeah," Alex acknowledged with a nod. "Family means everything to him. I think he hated being an only child." She looked around. "I still can't believe I'm sitting in the White House with the President of the United States."

"Pretty wild, huh?" Mac said with an amused grin.

"Oh yeah! Thank heavens for Cooper!"

Mac laughed. "Both of them—but particularly Junior."

"You must have been pretty shocked when you learned who he was."

"You have no idea," she replied nostalgically. "Of course, when I saw his name on the résumé, I knew he could only be Rod's son."

"Yet you hired him anyway."

Mac shrugged. "I had no intention of doing so… until I spent some time with him. How could anyone resist him? He's wonderful and…."

"Like his father?" Alex suggested.

She contemplated whether it might be wise to evade the question but quickly decided it would be pointless. "Yeah," she conceded.

When their eyes met, Alex told her, "The entire family is thrilled to have you back in his life."

"Really?" Mac found herself surprised by that revelation. "Even after the past?"

"The break up, you mean?"

Mac nodded.

"What happened between you?" Alex asked her.

"You don't know?" She was even more surprised by this possibility.

Alex shook her head. "He's never said. Syd and I were so mad at him when you broke up—Nana, too. We could never understand how he could just let you go. We tried and tried to get him to go and talk to you. But he refused. Wouldn't even talk about it."

Mac sighed. Quietly she acknowledged, "It wasn't his fault, Alex. There's a lot you don't know. He did the only thing he could do." Before continuing she took a deep breath that sounded ragged and uneven to her own ears. "And then he met Lauren…."

"Yeah."

"They were happy together, weren't they?" In her heart she believed that she knew the answer. However, for some reason she needed to have it confirmed beyond doubt.

"I think so," Alex replied. "No," she added with a small shake of her head, "they were very happy."

Mac nodded thoughtfully. "And he loved her deeply."

"Yes, he did."

Inexplicably—like the compulsion to stare at train wrecks and automobile accidents—Mac found herself desperate to know more about the woman who had taken her place. The woman who still commanded his heart. "What was she like?"

"You honestly want to know?" Alex asked, studying her close.

"I should know something," she insisted. "Your brother won't talk about her—not really. I'm meeting her parents tomorrow."

Alex chuckled sardonically. "That's got to be weird."

"I'm trying not to let it get to me," Mac admitted. "Rod says they're wonderful—that it's no big deal."

"They are wonderful."

"Please, Alex. Tell me about Lauren."

"Okay," she finally conceded. "You have to remember I was pretty young at the time—caught up in my own life and college, graduate school. But she was terrific: smart, warm, witty, fun. She was more passionate about sports and baseball than Rod; and she knew her way around the financial markets better than any of us."

"How did they meet?"

"She was working as Dad's personal assistant."

_How ironic_, Mac thought. When they had been dating, Will Calloway had desperately wanted Rod—and even herself—to come work with him. "She kept working for the bank then?" "Bank," she knew, was the euphemism the Calloway family used to describe what amounted to a vast financial empire.

"If I remember right, only until the twins," Alex said thoughtfully. "I think she was a lot like our mother that way. Her primary ambition was her family. I'm not sure how she could give it all up. I certainly couldn't," she added. "But she adored Rod and the twins, and to my knowledge never regretted it."

"I'm glad," Mac replied softly. "It's what he deserves." But it was also a knife in the gut. If that is what he wants, she realized with a sudden clarity, she couldn't compete—not right now, not with this job… and certainly not while running for re-election.

"He said she was six years older?"

"Yeah," Alex said with a chuckle.

"What's so funny?"

Alex smiled.

It was a grin Mac found to be incredibly similar to her brother and nephew.

"I always loved to give both of them a bad time about cradle robbing," Alex explained. "And then I met Matt."

"I take it he's younger," Mac said.

"Almost six years," Alex admitted with a sardonic chuckle. "And, of course, my big brother has never let me live it down."

Mac laughed. "I love it! How did the two of you meet?"

"At a celebrity golf tournament," Alex said wistfully. "I was thirty and he was a twenty-four year old rookie on the PGA tour. He was a total jock and a complete flirt at the time. But very smart and not at all intimidated. I was skeptical at first. Didn't believe he could really be interested with such an age difference, but he was…. And so was I."

"I can't wait to meet him," Mac told her. "I'm glad he was able to get away."

"Me, too," Alex agreed. "I don't think he could stand not seeing Cooper dressed up in a bunny suit. And secretly, I think he's dying to meet you."

Mac laughed.

"So," Alex asked with deliberate casualness, "what's going on with you and my…." Much to her chagrin, the question she'd been dying to ask for weeks was interrupted.

"Can I have my surprise now, Madam President?" Grace exclaimed excitedly as she ran back into the room with her uncle trailing close behind.

XXXXXXXXXX

A few hours later Mac sat reading in her favorite chair when she heard the unmistakable sound of her mother coming down the hall. She looked at her watch. It was approaching midnight. "Hi," she said when Kate came into view.

"Hi, honey," Kate replied joining her. "You alone? Where's Rod?"

"He left a couple hours ago. Grace fell asleep and Alex was worn out."

"Alex is expecting?" Kate asked as she took off her coat and handed it to one of the usher's, who then silently disappeared as quietly as he appeared.

Mac nodded. "Five months—with a little boy," she told her enthusiastically. "Rod took them back to the hotel. He wanted to make sure Lauren's parents got settled in, and to check in on Rebecca."

"How is Rebecca?" Kate said taking a seat on the sofa.

"Apparently still as sharp and feisty as ever. She has a little cold and didn't come over tonight."

"That's too bad. I hope she's feeling better in the morning. I've been looking forward to seeing her again."

"Me, too," Mac agreed without mentioning any of the anxiety she was also feeling. "Rod thinks she'll be fine. Little Gracie is darling, and absolutely crazy about her uncle. He's so cute with her."

"He's wonderful, Mac."

"Yeah," she answered quietly, her voice thick with emotion. She took a deep breath and forced her thoughts away from the direction they were headed. Putting her book down and removing her reading glasses, she asked, "How was dinner?"

"Lovely," Kate said, "… and lonely. It's still hard to believe that he's gone."

Mac sighed and joined her mother on the couch. Resting a comfortable hand on her leg, she said, "I can't tell you how many times I've physically picked up the phone to call him. And it's so much worse for you. I don't think I truly understood until recently."

Kate couldn't prevent a hint of a smile from momentarily creasing her face along with the deep sigh that escaped her lips. "I try to pretend he's just away at sea."

"But it doesn't work, does it?"

"No," Kate agreed. "It doesn't. Not really anyway."

"I'm sorry. I'd give anything to have him here with us."

Kate nodded. "I know he'd give anything to be here for you."

"How was the cemetery?" Mac asked, finding a more comfortable position. "I would have gone with you, you know."

"I know you would…. You and the rest of the world," she added in a wry tone.

Mac raised a sardonic brow. A big part of her hated the truth in her mother's words.

Kate continued, "It hit me harder than I thought it would—the reality that he's been gone for nearly two years."

"I'm glad Rod was with you," Mac told her softly. She hated to think of her mother alone at such a time.

"He was kind to accompany me. I didn't expect it," Kate acknowledged. "Honey, he is so strong and so tender, and he feels his responsibility to others so keenly."

"I know," Mac agreed while releasing a deep, ragged breath. Thankfully, her mother didn't dwell on the subject.

"How was your time with the twins? I thoroughly enjoyed watching all of them interact this morning."

Mac, too, thought back over the course of the day. "They are incredible kids, aren't they?"

"Just what you would want them to be," Kate agreed. "Smart and confident, yet gracious, polite and playful. And very down to earth."

"They're just like their father in other words," Mac commented with a knowing grin. "You know, it's strange. I'm finding it increasingly difficult to remember my life before Cooper waltzed into my office."

"Bringing his father with him?" Kate suggested with a slight "mother knows best" smirk.

"There is that," Mac thoughtfully admitted while ignoring her mother's tease. After a moment's pause she continued, "I thought my life was complete before. I was wrong." She sighed and changed the subject. "I think Becca had a good time today. At least I hope she did. She seemed to… in spite of the craziness. She was thrilled that Duke won and that Jamison got to play a lot."

"Good," Kate said enthusiastically. "It sounds like she really likes him. Poor Rod!"

"Poor Becca, you mean," Mac playfully corrected thinking about his reaction at breakfast to the news his daughter had a boyfriend.

Kate chuckled in agreement before she, too, turned thoughtful. "She's quieter and more reserved—more intense than her brother."

Mac nodded in agreement. "Rod worries about her—much more than he does Cooper, which is natural I suppose."

"It was sweet to watch the two of them together. It brought back many fond memories. There's a deep bond there. Obviously with Cooper, too, but…."

"It's different."

"Uh huh," Kate nodded with a warm, knowing smile. "Very much like you with Michael."

"I miss him every day. But I'm very lucky to have you."

"Thank you," Kate answered with an unusually quiet voice.

"Remind me to show you the sketches and ideas she came up with for the office."

Kate was surprised. "You were serious about that? I thought you were just using it as an excuse to help break the ice."

"That was my original intent," Mac admitted through a yawn. "But she's good. I suppose that shouldn't come as a surprise," she added with a twinkle in her eyes. "She's a Calloway after all. Mediocrity is not in their vocabulary."

Kate laughed. "It's not in yours, either."

"I suppose not." Mac smiled but then lapsed into a pensive silence.

Eventually Kate interrupted. "What are you thinking?"

Mac looked at her mother and saw the concern etched in her brow. She shrugged a shoulder. "You know, it's so easy to imagine them as my children—mine and Rod's. But as he is fond of saying, 'It is what it is.'"

"I know," Kate placed a sympathetic hand on her daughter's leg. "It's not the same, but for what it's worth, Cooper adores you. So will Becca."

Mac sighed. Somehow it seemed to help keep the emotions in check. "Thanks, Mom." She stood and bent to kiss her on the cheek. "I'm beat. I'm sure you are, too."

"Okay, honey. I love you."

"Me, too," Mac told her as she walked towards the door.

"Mackenzie?"

Mac turned around in the doorframe.

"Tomorrow will be fine."

"If you say so," Mac teased. "Do you know he still refers to them as his in-laws?"

"What else would he call them?" Kate replied lightly.

"Good night, Mom."

"Good night."

XXXXXXXXXX

Rod stood on the balcony of the Hay-Adams' Federal Suite looking out across Lafayette Park at the White House and the top of the Washington Monument. He'd loved American history since he was a small boy, and historical views didn't get any better than the vista before him. He thought about all the critical decisions that had been made from the house in front of him: Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation, FDR's First Hundred Days, Truman's choice to drop the atom bomb on Japan, Ford's foresight in pardoning Nixon, Bush's post-911 declared war on terrorism and his invasion of Iraq. Now those decisions were Mackenzie's. What a stunning reality, he realized again.

He breathed deeply. The weather had warmed considerably since he first occupied this suite a few weeks ago. Spring was definitely in the air. Thanks to the necessary security arrangements, it and two other suites on the floor had been available for his use despite it being Easter weekend. He'd offered this suite to William and Anne, and subsequently to his sister and grandmother, but they had refused and had taken smaller adjacent suites.

It hit him again just how suspiciously quiet the Calloway women had been about Mackenzie. In fact, outside of his initial conversation with Alex during the Masters, they hadn't uttered a single word about her. Something was going on there because the three of them had never once kept their opinions to themselves about anything that was on their minds. And _she_ had to be on their minds. He was not, however, about to tempt fate.

He looked at his watch and saw that it was after one. The twins should be back shortly. Not that he bothered waiting up for them any more. They were adults, and generally very responsible. He was just having a hard time winding down. Maybe so many nights in hotel rooms were getting to him. If so, he told himself, _get over it!_ Next week would be even worse.

He walked back inside and got ready for bed. He was about to settle in with a book when he realized he'd left his reading glasses in the living room. He was surprised to find Becca peering into the mini-bar. He hadn't heard her come in.

"Hey, Bec," he said.

"Hi," she said grabbing a box of cheese crackers. "Thought you'd be asleep."

He shrugged and took a seat on the sofa. "Just winding down. Did you have fun today?"

"Yeah," she said plopping down into a nearby chair. "Want a cracker?" She offered him the box.

"No, thanks," he said shaking his head. "Already brushed my teeth. Where's your brother?"

"He forgot to grab a clean shirt and tie for tomorrow. Said he'd stay at the apartment and come back over in the morning."

Rod laughed. _What was it about that kid and shirts and ties?_ "Bec," he said pointedly, "you didn't take public transportation by..."

She rolled her eyes. "No, Dad. Coop dropped me off." She ate another cracker. "I can take care of myself, you know."

"I know," he admitted. "What can I say? You'll always be my baby girl. So what kind of club did y'all hit tonight?"

"Jazz. Heard an unreal guitarist. You would have loved it," she informed him as she stood and retrieved her purse. "The guy was so good I picked up a couple of CDs—including one for you."

"Thanks, honey," he said accepting the disk from her. After he'd briefly studied the contents he said, "Sounds like it was also a good night for Duke basketball and Mr. Kennedy, in particular."

"Yeah," she said enthusiastically. "We watched the game on the plane. It was pretty cool. The food was good, too. Listen, you're not going to interrogate me again, are you?"

He scowled. "I haven't decided yet."

"Dad," she protested, "we're just having fun. Besides he's a really cool guy and very smart. You don't think I'd honestly be interested in a jerk, do you?"

"No, but…."

"But nothing," she insisted.

He scowled again because that had been one of his favorite expressions with them when they were younger, and now it was being used against him. "All right," he gave in with a petulant growl. But pointing an index finger in her direction, he told her, "Just remember…."

"Who I am, I know," she said finishing the thought. "I won't forget," she smiled. "Besides, Coop's worse about him than you are."

"Good," he nodded and went to the mini-bar. "Want a drink?" he asked her while pulling out a bottled water.

"Just water," she replied. "I've been drinking too much carbonation lately and it's been messing with my stamina."

"We can't have that," he cautioned her as he tossed a second bottle to her. "Not if you want a chance at making the national under 21 team next month."

"I know," she said opening the bottle and taking a big gulp. "I've already stopped."

"So," he said casually as he sat back down, "I was wondering if you'd like to take a trip to the Final Four next weekend?"

She put down her drink and the crackers. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah," he grinned. "If your grades are good and you can afford to miss a couple of days of class."

"My grades are always good," she reminded him with a smirk. "Can you really get tickets?"

"There are ways," he assured her. "I thought you could invite a friend. I won't be able to make it Saturday, have to be in Boston with Cooper and Mackenzie. But if they win, we'll fly down and meet you early Sunday morning and watch the championship game with you Monday night. Maybe we could have lunch with Jamison and his parents—I assume they'll be there."

Becca shook her head with a rueful smile. "You are so bad!"

He laughed. "So what do you say? Want to go?"

"What do you think?"

"And you'll talk to Jamison?"

"Dad…" she protested.

"Bec…" he threw back.

"I'll try," she conceded.

"Okay," he agreed before giving into the temptation of the crackers. Removing a few from the box he said, "Hey… forgot to tell you. The sketches for Mackenzie's office are amazing."

"You really think so?"

"Yeah," he replied sincerely. "She loved them, too. Are you sure about med school? They're that good, honey."

"Yeah, Dad. I'm sure."

He nodded and with a smile suggested, "Go into geriatrics, will you? So you can take care of me in my old age."

She grinned back. "You just want an excuse to be a dirty old man."

He laughed.

"Dad?"

He heard the change in her voice and looked at her. "Yeah?"

"You're not going public with this relationship, are you?"

He was confused. "What relationship, Bec?"

She rolled her eyes. "The President…. Come on, Dad."

"We're friends. Why should that be a deal?"

"Yeah right!" she said unconvinced.

"What do you mean by that?" He scooted down towards her.

"I saw how she looks at you and laughs at your corny jokes. And the way you look at her—the way you've always looked at her…."

"Bec," he said firmly, "I don't know what you think you saw, but we didn't see each other or speak for over twenty years. We are not having that kind of relationship. We're friends. It's important for your brother."

"Sure, Dad, it's for Cooper," she said rolling her eyes again. "Do you know how idiotic that sounds?"

"It's the truth," he insisted.

"I'm not a kid any more. I know chemistry and attraction when I see it. It would take a sword to cut through the sexual tension between you."

Rod sighed heavily as he tried to maintain control over his temper. "Look, Bec…. We're friends. I don't know what else I can say." He sighed again and more quietly asked, "But would it be so bad if I did want to have a relationship with someone? Don't I have a right to that?"

"You mean the President?" she accused. "Because you've never introduced us to anyone—ever. But here we are. And you're with her every weekend."

"I thought you liked her…" he said, still confused and off balance by her attitude.

"I do," she said with a sigh of her own, "but…"

"Honey, we're friends," he said reaching towards her. "We enjoy each other's company. She's needed help getting ready to throw out the first pitch."

"Whatever, Dad," she said disbelievingly as she stood up and walked towards the second bedroom where Grace was already asleep.

"Bec?"

She turned around. "Just keep me out of it, okay?" Without another word she went into the bedroom and closed the door, leaving her father speechless.

14


	25. What's in a Name?

**25. What's In a Name?**

**Sunday, March 27, 2016**

Mac felt anxious as she walked into St. John's Episcopal Church a couple of minutes before ten on Easter morning. The "in-laws" and Rebecca were waiting inside. What could she possibly say to Lauren's parents? Moreover, Rod had always been Rebecca's "boy," and she must hate her for breaking his heart all those years ago. Nevertheless, she smiled at Reverend Aiken's approaching face as she felt her mother touch her sleeve.

"I'll be inside," Kate told her.

Mac nodded and turned her attention to her friend. "Good morning," she said with more enthusiasm than she felt.

"Happy Easter, Madam President," the Reverend replied with a twinkle in her blue eyes. "You seem to have acquired quite the posse—including a very tall, dark and handsome Judge."

"He's a friend, Hannah," Mac insisted.

"Sure, he is," she said with a teasing grin. "But I'm available to perform a wedding night or day."

Involuntarily Mac flushed. "Don't hold your breath. You've got a far better chance at presiding over that Inauguration Day prayer service."

"Oh, I'm counting on that, too."

"God willing," she agreed with a chuckle.

Hannah leaned towards her and said quietly so that the surrounding agents of her detail could not hear, "I'm praying for you—and I am not just talking about the election."

She shook her head with a wry grin. "Happy Easter."

"Happy Easter, indeed," Hannah replied with a smile. "See you at dinner."

"Dinner?" Mac asked.

"Didn't you know? Rod invited Peter and me to join you this afternoon."

Mac chuckled. "I'm sure he meant it as a very pleasant surprise. He has a tendency to do that," she added thinking back over the course of their relationship.

Hannah smiled reassuringly. "Well, we won't say a word. But I'm telling you, Madam President. He's a keeper," she whispered with a wink before turning to walk back to the front of the church with Mac following behind, smiling and shaking her head.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mac greeted familiar faces and shook hands as she walked towards her pew. It continued to amaze her that the American people felt such a need to connect with her. They would wait in the cold, wet, heat or dark for hours to shake her hand, secure an autograph, or simply to wish her well.

As she shook the hand of young boy about ten, her heart began to pound. She glanced up to meet the beautiful grey-green eyes she had felt upon her above the standing congregation. They were laughing. Of course, he would be amused at this scene. She saw something else there, an emotion she couldn't quite pinpoint. But it made her heart race.

"Good morning," she silently mouthed to him.

He winked and mouthed back, "You, too."

She smiled and turned her attention back to the young boy in front of her. "Happy Easter," she told him as she tousled his thick, dark hair before moving forward. She greeted a few more parishioners and in no time at all she had reached her destination. They, too, were standing.

She stepped in front of her mother and greeted Cooper. "Morning, Junior. You look a little sleepy. Late night?"

"Morning just came too early," he muttered with a sheepish grin.

She laughed and addressed the Calloway family matriarch standing to his right. "Hello, Rebecca," she said warmly while extending a hand towards her. More than ever, Rod's grandmother reminded her of a taller, darker version of Nancy Reagan. She was elegant. She also possessed a dynamic, strong personality and a keen mind.

Rebecca took both of her hands. "My girl—Madam President—it's about time we meet again."

"I agree," Mac said as some of her anxiety disappeared. "I hope you are feeling better."

"It was nothing. Just old age rearing its ugly head."

"Not possible—at least not from what I've been told," Mac said affectionately. "Thank you for coming."

Rebecca leaned forward and said quietly, "Thank you."

Mac smiled before greeting young Rebecca. "Good morning. Did you talk to Jamison?"

Becca nodded and with a shy smile said, "Yes, ma'am."

"I bet he was still pumped about the game."

"Yes, ma'am."

She bent down. "Hi, Gracie. What a pretty dress!" She was wearing a white smocked dress with pink ribbon sewn into the hem and sleeves. "Did the Easter Bunny find you?"

Grace nodded with a smile.

"What do you say?" Matt Craig asked his daughter with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you, Madam President," Grace replied politely.

"You're welcome," Mac said with a little tap to the little girl's nose.

Straightening up, she extended her hand to Alex's husband. He wasn't a big man, only about 5'10." But he had the build of an athlete and his coloring reminded her of photos she'd seen of a young Jack Kennedy. There was no doubt that his daughter had inherited both his hair and his eyes. "Matt, I'm so happy you were able to break away. How was the redeye?"

"It's a pleasure, Madam President," Matt said shaking her hand. "And the flight was good."

"He can sleep anywhere," Alex told her, leaning across her husband.

"Don't let her fool you," Matt said while wrapping an arm tenderly around his wife. "She's even more adept at it."

Mac laughed. "That I can believe. Must be a genetic thing."

"Oh yeah!" he agreed. "They're famous for it."

Alex leaned forwards. "You look stunning and your necklace is exquisite."

Instinctively Mac brought her hand up to the base of her throat and fingered her diamond and pearl necklace. She was glad she'd been talked into this new pale pink suit with Peter Pan collar. She didn't feel like looking presidential today. "Thank you. I was about to say the same for you," she said before taking a quick, deep breath. It was time for the "in-laws." She put a deliberate smile on her face and took a step to her right. Luckily, Rod seemed to have anticipated her next move. He had an arm around Lauren's mother and was waiting to make the introductions.

"Mackenzie," he said enthusiastically, "I'd like you to meet William and Anne Murphy."

"Welcome to Washington," Mac told both of them as she shook their hands.

"It's an honor, Madam President," Anne told her sincerely.

"Thank you for letting us crash the party," William added.

"Oh… I think I'm the real party crasher here," Mac replied teasingly while sharing a quick smile with Rod. "But please, you must call me Mac or Mackenzie."

"Only for today," William agreed.

"Fair enough," she warmly conceded before stepping in front of Rod. "Hey," she whispered as she passed him and took her seat at the end of the row. As she sat, so did the rest of the congregation and Hannah stepped forwards to the podium.

After she was settled next to him, Rod leaned over and said, "See, that wasn't so bad." He chuckled when she gave him the knowing look that said, _You're right, of course, but I'm too stubborn and proud to admit it_. "You look beautiful, by the way," he whispered.

"Thank you," she replied, the light in her eyes unmistakable. "You look pretty handsome yourself." He was wearing an elegant three-button light grey suit with a white shirt and a textured sky blue silk tie. "Your grandmother looks amazing. Is she really feeling better?" she asked.

"She'll likely outlive us all. She'd have to be on her deathbed to miss this weekend with you."

They lapsed into silence as Reverend Aiken made her introductory comments. However, as the choir began singing, she touched his leg. When their eyes met, quietly she said, "She doesn't know anything about why we broke up, does she?"

He shook his head. "No."

It touched her to realize that after everything she'd put him through he was still protecting her. "Thank you."

"Mac, it wasn't your fault."

"You're wrong," she told him. "We both know it."

He sighed and said, "Don't do this. It just wasn't meant to be. Nobody blames you. Okay?"

She sighed, too. "Okay," she replied softly with a smile. "At least I won't have to spend the next couple of days groveling."

He grinned. "I'm shocked you know what the word means."

"Congress and the press remind me on a daily basis."

"Whatever happened to speaking softly while carrying a big stick?"

"More like catching flies with honey," she whispered back. "Guess we better pay attention, huh? Or at least pretend."

"I guess we better," he agreed. "For Hannah's sake if nothing else."

"Right. For Hannah's sake," she repeated with a knowing smile before making a concentrated effort to focus on her friend at the front of the church rather than on the man at her side. She mostly succeeded until halfway through the sermon when Grace came over to them.

"Want to sit on my lap?" Rod asked as he extended his arms towards his niece.

She shook her head and whispered, "Madam President."

Mac smiled and scooted over a little to make room for her. "How's that?" she asked after she'd settled Grace on her lap. She was touched that the little girl would come to her. However, the tender look she discovered in Rod's eyes made her head spin. How could he look at her like that and feel only friendship? After the passage of so many years, how could Lauren's hold on him still be so deep and so strong?

XXXXXXXXXX

"There's nothing we can do about it today obviously, but you were right to call. Let's meet at seven tomorrow so we can get a handle on it before I have to do the Easter thing." Mac hung up the phone in her study and looked at her watch, relieved that the call from her Chief of Staff hadn't taken as long as she feared.

As she approached the stairwell she heard a familiar little voice shout excitedly, "I win! I win!" Followed by a familiar deep refrain agreeing, "You sure did! You're just too fast for me." She peeked her head around the corner in time to see Rod throw a squealing Grace high in the air. "Nice catch," she told him as Grace landed back in his arms.

He turned and smiled. "Hey! Didn't see you. Everything okay?"

"India and Pakistan. But there's nothing I can do about it today." She looked around him down the staircase. "Where's the gang?"

"Still touring. Cooper took them over to the West Wing. But Gracie was so excited about seeing the rooms in her coloring book that she wants to color right now."

"You do?" Mac asked her with a warm smile walking over to them. She didn't have a whole lot of experience buying gifts for young children and was relieved that she'd scored a hit with the crayons and White House coloring books she'd had Cooper pick up from the Historical Association shop. She'd also given her a little backpack with some White House M&Ms and a White House Christmas tree ornament.

"Uh huh," Grace answered. "And use my stickers, too."

"Stickers, too?" Rod exclaimed in mock surprise.

"Not just any stickers," Mac informed him. "But stickers of White House artifacts and paintings that go with one of the coloring books, huh Gracie?"

"Uh huh."

"Wow! Somebody must like you a lot," he told Gracie with a smile.

"Madam President," she replied.

"Madam President, indeed," he said making eye contact with the woman in question.

"Should we go into the Yellow Room again?" Mac asked them while trying to keep her respiration normal. Even an innocent, playful look from him seemed to wreak havoc with her physiology. "You can color on the little table, Grace."

"Great idea," Rod agreed. He put Grace down and told her, "Go get your backpack."

The little girl ran and retrieved it from a chair in the hall and the three of them settled themselves in the Yellow Room with Gracie happily sitting on the floor coloring on the table while Rod and Mackenzie relaxed on the adjacent sofa.

"I am so stuffed from dinner," Mac told him. "It was delicious. You did a wonderful job." The thirteen of them had eaten around the large table in his suite. It was the perfect setting for an intimate and informal gathering. The Secret Service had sealed off the entire floor allowing them at least a modicum of privacy. She'd been amazed at how comfortable it felt and how easily the conversation flowed, even with Lauren's parents. Before coming over here for dessert, they'd sat and talked around the flat screen television watching to find out who Duke's opponent would be next Saturday night.

He laughed. "Like I had anything to do with it. But thank you. I hope we weren't too overpowering for you," he teased.

"Worse than the North Koreans," she deadpanned. "You were right about William, by the way. He did ask me to throw out the first pitch in Atlanta next year. I told him he would probably want to reconsider after next weekend."

"Not a chance," he said shaking his head. "Every team in the league will be fighting to get you after you bring the heat in Boston. I'm predicting a landslide victory for you in New England. But speaking of heat, I hope Nana didn't overstep her bounds with you, particularly on Africa."

She laughed. "I don't think that's possible. At ninety-one she's earned the right to give whatever advice she chooses; and she was mostly right, particularly about Africa. We have failed there, and we must do better."

"It's a daunting task," he agreed.

"I can't believe how sharp—how hip—she is. She's hardly changed at all. I want to be just like her at that age."

"Me, too," he said with a chuckle. He leaned forward to see which White House room Grace was currently obsessively coloring.

"Rod?" Mac asked.

He sat back and again made eye contact with her. "Yeah?"

"Thank you for inviting Hannah and Peter," she told him sincerely. "That was a very thoughtful thing to do. They had a wonderful time."

"I thought you might feel like a pilgrim in an unholy land."

She raised an eyebrow. "Was my anxiety that obvious?"

"No," he assured her. "It was more for me than for you. From what you've told me about them, I've wanted to know them better. I thought today would be a good opportunity for it."

"You were right."

"Their story is amazing," he said thinking back on what he'd learned at dinner. "I look at all the good they've done here and in Central America and I feel ashamed of my own life and good fortune."

"You're not the only one," she threw back lightly before turning serious. "I guess all we can do is to try the best we can with the gifts and talents we've been given. Hopefully, we leave the world a little better place."

"Is it enough though?" he asked thoughtfully.

"I don't know," she answered with equal soberness. "What else is there but to try? Isn't that what you were trying to tell me the other day?"

He looked at her inquisitively.

"Margaret Mead," she prompted. "_Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world…._"

He chuckled.

"That thought's been stuck in my head the past week—thanks to you. I don't think I realized before how perceptive she was. Without such small groups, Christianity wouldn't exist and neither would the United States of America." She smiled at him and added, "But then you know that already."

He shifted closer to her and rested a hand on her knee. "What's most important is that you know it. Because you better than anyone _are_ in a position to change the world."

She nodded in understanding. "I made a decision," she informed him. "I'm going to appoint Maria Durham to the Court. And if by some miracle I win the election and the Chief Justice retires like it is rumored he will do if someone other than Templeton wins, I'm going to name big Cooper as Chief Justice. You're right. We need another lion as Chief. I know that I'll take heat about cronyism, but he's supremely qualified. Other than you, there's no one better."

"There's nobody better than Cooper, period," he assured her.

"But," she continued, "that won't happen unless I win in November. To have even a chance at winning, you know there can't be any hiccups in this nomination. Judge Durham is brilliant, confirmable, and…."

"Madam President," he said with great amusement, "are you campaigning?"

She felt her face flush. With an embarrassed grin, she said, "Guess I got carried away, huh?"

"Are you honestly afraid I might criticize your choice?"

She shrugged. "It's just that I care what you think—more than anyone else. I heard what you had to say the other night, it's just that…."

"Mackenzie," he gently cut her off. "You got it right."

She sighed. "Thank you."

"Uncle Rod?" Grace interrupted from down on the floor in front of them.

"Yes, sweetie?" he answered.

She put down her crayon and asked, "Can we go up in Washington's tower now? You promised we could go today."

He looked at Mac, who smiled and nodded.

"Yes, we can go," he said. "But we better go find Mommy and Daddy first and see if anybody wants to go with us."

"Hooray!" she answered excitedly, eliciting laughter from her uncle and "Madam President."

XXXXXXXXXX

The three of them went downstairs and met the others walking along the West Colonnade. Becca and Cooper joined by Kate volunteered to take Grace over to the Monument. After they left, Mac asked Rod, "Are you going to break out the clubs?" Matt had brought some new golf clubs back with him from California and Rod and William were dying to check them out.

Rod turned to his brother-in-law. "Matt?"

"Sounds great to me," he replied.

"Fantastic. I'll just go get the clubs." He began to walk inside.

"Rod?" Mac called out. When he turned around, she gestured towards the putting green located across the driveway adjacent to the Rose Garden. "One of the Usher's beat you to it."

He, too, looked over and saw the bag leaning against the little white bench next to the green. He shook his head in wry amusement. "I should have known. You going to hit with us?" he asked her.

"No way," she told him. "My golf game needs serious help and I'm not willingly going to subject myself to ridicule—particularly not in front of a professional like Matt."

"Suit yourself," Rod said with a smile, already beginning to walk towards the green with William and Matt.

She turned to Rebecca. "Is it too chilly for you out here?" In reality it was a beautiful spring afternoon, but she didn't want to exacerbate the older woman's cold.

"It's lovely," Rebecca insisted. "A perfect day."

"Would y'all like to sit and visit on the patio by my office?" Mac asked the three women.

"Y'all?" Alex teased, which elicited laughter from Rebecca and Anne. "Since when does a New England girl say 'y'all' and 'sit and visit?'"

Mac laughed, too. "Since spending an inordinate amount of time with a Georgia boy and…."

"His Yankee father, who also occasionally lapses into a drawl?" Rebecca suggested with a smile.

"Something like that…. You're not going to let me live this one down, are you?" she asked them with a rueful shake of the head. At the same time, however, it felt nice to be treated like a person rather than as a president.

"No way," Alex told her.

The four of them walked around the colonnade to the patio next to her office. She and Anne sat at the little table while Rebecca and Alex relaxed in the oversized cushioned chairs. In short order, one of the ushers brought them drinks.

"The grounds are lovely," Anne told her looking over the Rose Garden and South Lawn.

"I love watching the gardens change with the seasons. The staff does an amazing job. But spring is my favorite time, I think. In a few weeks the Rose Garden will be filled with tulips. It's gorgeous."

"What about roses?" Rebecca asked.

Mac chuckled. "At some point, I'm sure they'll be some of those, too. Probably not as many as Elizabeth would like."

"You remembered," the Calloway matriarch noted.

"Yeah," she replied meeting her knowing gaze. After a long second she asked the others, "How did you like the tour? Cooper really knows his stuff."

"The real question is what facts are true and what was the product of his very active imagination," Rebecca said, her eyes full of humor.

The three of them laughed. "I'm sure there was some embelishment," Mac told them. "But he's read all the histories of the house, and has asked the curator and chief usher about a million questions."

"He's always been curious," Anne told her, "even when he was a small boy."

Mac smiled. "It was one of many reasons I hired him. Rod's told me how much you've done for them. Did they always live across the street?"

"No," Anne said. "A year or so after Lauren died, the property next to ours became available and Rod bought it. It would have been much easier on him to return to Connecticut. We are so grateful he chose to stay, and that the Calloway family has been supportive of him staying."

"Much as I hate having them farther away," Rebecca told her, "it was the best thing for him and the twins."

"Do you have other children?" Mac asked Anne.

"A daughter, son-in-law and three granddaughters in California, and a son who was killed in Afghanistan in 2002."

"Military?"

Anne nodded. "Marines."

"I'm sorry," Mac told her sincerely. Although she had nothing to do with the military or foreign policy at that time, she was the current Commander in Chief and felt accountable for his death.

"Thank you," Anne replied. "Having Rod and the twins stay close helped fill a huge void in our lives. He is like a son to us. Thank you for being so gracious with us. I know this can't be easy. Having the dead wife's family descend on you."

"Nonsense," Rebecca piped in. "You are family, period. You should be here."

"I completely agree," Mac added affectionately. "Today has been wonderful. I'm as excited as anyone to see Cooper as the bunny tomorrow."

"My grandson loves his job and is crazy about you."

"He's wonderful at his job," Mac told them proudly. "You should have seen him with the Emperor of Japan about a month ago. The Emperor absolutely loves baseball and Cooper stepped in at the State Dinner when my escort came down with food poisoning. He completely won the man over, so much so that he was personally invited to attend the reciprocal dinner at the Japanese Embassy. I was sorely tempted to name him Ambassador to Japan."

"That's Cooper!" Alex commented with a chuckle.

"I get the feeling you feel about him the way William and I feel about his father," Anne said insightfully.

Mac smiled in return. There was no point denying it.

"Mackenzie?" Rod called out from the other side of the hedge that formed the south border to the Rose Garden.

She stood and walked over to the edge of the patio. "Yeah?"

"Okay if we move the fences?" he asked. "We want to try out a couple new drivers. We'll fix them afterwards."

She looked around. Temporary fences had been set up around the perimeter of the lawn for security reasons and crowd control. "Don't worry about it. The grounds crew will do it."

He nodded. "Thanks."

"I'm not going to get sued because you've beaned some unsuspecting tourist standing along the fence line, am I?"

"Nah," he replied with a smirk, "we'll be aiming for the fountain. We have a little wager going."

"My money's on Matt," she told him with a smirk of her own.

"What?" he proclaimed with mock exasperation. "No faith in my athletic prowess? I'm hurt."

She laughed. "You'll get over it. By the way, are you playing righty?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "I usually do. Sure you don't want to join us?"

"I'll pass. But hit a few for me."

"The one that sails over the fence will be yours," he said as he turned around.

Mac laughed and watched as he walked back over to the green where Matt and William continued to putt. When she turned around she found all three of her companions—including Anne—looking at her with smug smiles. "What?" she asked as she sat back down at the table.

"What's going on with you and my brother?" Alex said for the group.

"What do you mean?" she asked feigning ignorance.

"You're back together, aren't you?"

"What does he say?" she questioned evasively and then watched as Rebecca and Alex shared a conspiratorial look.

Alex sighed and sheepishly confessed, "We don't know. We're not allowed to ask him about you."

"His mother read us and Sydney the riot act about meddling," Rebecca clarified upon seeing Mac's puzzlement.

"But Elizabeth is in Africa," Mac pointed out.

Rebecca shook her head. "Maybe so. But her word is law and her will stretches over mountains and across oceans and continents, particularly when it comes to Roderic."

"So we're asking you instead," Alex admitted. "Although Matt better be grilling him, too."

Mac laughed. She couldn't help herself. _Talk about divide and conquer_, she thought as the others, too, began to laugh.

"It is pretty funny," Rebecca agreed.

"But come on, tell us. We're dying to know," Alex begged.

"There's really nothing to tell," Mac told them. "We're friends."

"Oh please!" Alex exclaimed rolling her eyes. "The two of you are soul mates, and the chemistry between you is unreal."

Mac turned to Anne apologetically, "She didn't mean…."

"It's okay," Anne said laying a hand on her arm. "Lauren's been gone a long time. More than anything we want him and the twins to be happy. He's been happier the past month than he's been since her death."

"Thank you," Mac told her sincerely, hoping desperately that her words were true. "Honestly though," she said to all of them, "we're not back together. We're just friends."

"But you care about him," Anne said. It was more of a comment than a question.

"Very much," she acknowledged softly, her voice filled with more emotion than she would have liked.

"And he cares about you."

"_What's in a name?_" Rebecca suggested to her. "_That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet_."

"Shakespeare," she said answering the unspoken challenge.

"A very wise man," Rebecca told her with a wink.

She chuckled. Standing she told them, "I think maybe I'll take Roderic up on his offer and hit a few golf balls."

"I think that's a good idea," Anne agreed. "Why don't you send William over here? I think he's hit enough."

"Matt, too," Alex told her.

Mac grinned at their blatant attempt at manipulation. Then she went and did as they suggested.

XXXXXXXXXX

**Monday, March 28, 2016**

"Thanks, Jessica," Mac said stepping out of the elevator.

"Goodnight, ma'am," the Agent replied.

Mac set her briefcase with the night's reading on the nearest chair and took off her jacket. Usually she took the stairs but tonight she wimped out. After everyone's departure late this morning the day had been increasingly hectic. Now, however, the night seemed eerily silent. Her mother must be in bed.

However, she walked into the kitchen and the smell of warm chocolate chip cookies hit her. Her mother was most definitely not in bed, but instead was sitting at the table, back turned and completely engrossed in the late night talk shows. Mac smiled and grabbed a couple of cookies. Then careful not to startle, she approached the table asked casually, "So what part of my day are the pundits keying in on tonight?"

Kate turned around as her daughter joined her at the table. "Not you—Cooper and his back flip."

Mac chuckled. As she'd blown the whistle to start the first egg roll on the South Lawn that morning, Cooper, standing next to her, had thrown a standing back flip while dressed in full bunny suit. "I had no idea that was coming, did you?"

"Not a clue," Kate said with a smile. "But it was a big hit. He is a delight."

"That he is," she agreed.

"Would you like some milk?"

"I'll get it," Mac told her. "Can I get you anything?" she asked as she took a glass from the cupboard.

"I'm fine. How was your day, honey?"

"Busy," Mac told her with a sigh. She grabbed the milk from the refrigerator and sat back down next to her mother. "But India and Pakistan agreed to a ceasefire and future talks over the border dispute."

"That's huge," Kate said. "So why aren't you more excited?"

"Oh, I am," she insisted as she broke a cookie in half and took a bite.

"Mackenzie," Kate said after studying her daughter for a minute, "something is weighing on you. What is it?"

Mac played with her cookie for a moment before finally admitting, "I don't know if I can keep doing the friend thing."

"With Rod?"

"Yeah," she said with a small nod. She moved the milk aside and leaned forwards towards her mother. "I didn't expect it to be this hard. I don't understand it, Mom. I thought maybe Lauren's parents were holding him back. But I don't think so. He's right. They're wonderful. Anne told me that all they want is for him and the twins to be happy. I think she was letting me know it was okay for us to have a relationship."

"I'm not surprised. They are lovely, gracious people. You know love hasn't exactly been easy on him," Kate pointed out.

"You think he's still in love with Lauren?" This is what she feared the most. But she hoped her mother somehow saw something different.

"I don't think so. Not like that anyway. But you remember how tough it was during Dad's illness. What do you know about her illness?"

"Not much," she conceded. "He won't really talk about her. And frankly, I haven't wanted to bring her up."

"She was sick for over two and a half years. The twins were four when she was diagnosed. I don't know how he coped with it all. It was brain cancer, Mackenzie. There were many days when she couldn't recognize him or their children. How do you comfort her and explain that to 5-6 year olds? It had to be utterly devastating for him."

"I can't imagine how hard that must have been," Mac said thoughtfully. "But it's been thirteen years, Mom. Thirteen years! How can she still have such a hold on him?" She sighed deeply. "If only I had been brave enough to trust what I felt—to trust him. If only David and Mike…." With sardonic derision she added, "I must sound like a broken record."

"It's not too late," Kate suggested hopefully.

"I don't think so," she said shaking her head. "It's only friendship."

"I think you're wrong," Kate told her gently. "I've seen how he is with you, and how he looks at you."

"I don't know," she said picking up another cookie. "It's all so confusing. I feel like a teenager again."

Kate grinned but then turned serious. "Are words really that important right now?"

"What are you saying, Mom? Do you know something?" From almost the moment they met there had been a deep affection and understanding between Rod and her mother. Twenty years had not altered the connection between them.

"He's here, honey. Don't get tripped up by labels. He interrupted a vacation with his daughter to be there for you at the funeral. Likely stayed up most of the night writing the most eloquent speech I've ever heard. He's entrusted you with his only son when we both know all it would have taken for Cooper to turn down the job was a single word from him. Mac, he gave up the Supreme Court for you. Doesn't that tell you what you mean to him?"

"That was his pride, and sense of honor," she pointed out.

"Are you sure about that?" Kate questioned her. "Why did you offer him the job?"

"You know why," she replied somewhat impatiently. "What else could I do?"

"And yet he turned it down—twice. And the second time you can't say it was about pride or honor because he knew about Bridges' list. Isn't that what you told me?"

"Yeah," she acknowledged.

"That's not the kind of choice a man as smart and ambitious as Rod makes for only a friend. It's only been three weeks. Give him a little time to catch up." Kate stood and kissed her daughter on the cheek. "Don't stay up too late. I love you."

"Good night, Mom," she said thoughtfully, her mind already pondering her words: _Don't get tripped up by labels_. Hadn't Rebecca suggested the same thing with yesterday's word play?


	26. The Journey of a Thousand Miles

_Lao tzu: "The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."_

**26. The Journey of a Thousand Miles**

**Friday, April 1, 2016**

Once again Rod let himself into the Hay-Adams' federal suite. He walked directly to the master bathroom, shed his suit, and stepped into the shower. So familiar was he with its workings that he barely had to adjust it before the water temperature was perfect. It had been a long flight from San Francisco. A flight spent pouring over briefs in a complex securities case. The hot water felt good against his tight shoulder and back muscles. He stretched. He'd spent only two nights at home in the past two weeks, and it likely would be Tuesday before he was home again. What he really needed was a massage.

He toweled off, shaved and put on basketball shorts and a T-shirt. He hadn't heard from Mackenzie yet, and he had no idea about Cooper's plans, so he ordered a salad from room service, which he ate while catching part of the Braves opening game. William was as excited about the team as he'd been in a number of years. Junior, of course, was thrilled. And truthfully, he was pleased, too. He liked to see his father-in-law succeed.

Suddenly all the travel of the past several weeks seemed to catch up with him. He lay down on the bed and within a couple of minutes was asleep. The next thing he was conscious of was the shrill ring of the phone. Not his cell phone but the hotel phone on the nightstand. The room was completely dark except for the glow from the television. It was after ten he saw as he rolled over and picked up the receiver.

"Calloway," he answered.

"_Allen."_

"Hey," he said groggily, rolling over to his back.

"_You don't sound like yourself. Feeling okay?"_

He yawned and stretched. "I'm fine. Was watching a game and dozed off," he admitted.

"_So that's why you didn't answer your cell phone," she commented._

He picked up his phone from the table and saw that she had, in fact, called. He checked the volume and realized it was still turned down. "Forgot to take it off vibrate."

"_Sorry about earlier," she told him. "I got held up at the base, which I don't mind because they're our troops and their families, and they sacrifice so much. But…."_

He chuckled.

"_What?" she asked._

"Nothing," he said shaking his head.

"_Rod…."_

"Okay," he gave in. "It just hit me that you are the Commander in Chief of the United States military. Michael would get a big kick out of being forced to salute his little girl."

"_Yeah, well it comes with the job," she told him. "Anyway, then something on one of the helicopters broke coming out of Andrews. We had to land and wait for extra backup for security reasons. And no sooner had I got home than I was hit with several fires that had to be put out."_

Man is she keyed up, he thought. "Everything okay?"

"_Yeah, mostly nuisance stuff. But important enough that I had to deal with it."_

He grinned. Very few urgent and time sensitive matters happened at the federal appeals courts. "Mackenzie, it's okay. I expect that to happen."

"_I know," she sighed. "I'm just frustrated because I was really looking forward to tonight with you and I desperately wanted to practice before it got dark."_

"You're fine," he assured her. "Cooper said you just need to relax. We'll have plenty of time tomorrow."

"_What if I tense up?" she asked earnestly. "Throw it into the dirt, or even worse, ten feet over the catcher's head?"_

"Then you throw it into the dirt or ten feet over the catcher's head," he said plainly. "It's a game, Mac. It's not war and peace."

"_Sure, you say that now after getting me all worked up about YouTube and the talk shows. Maybe I should just have you pitch in relief."_

"Nice try, Madam," he told her wearing a smirk. "But you're stuck."

"_Do you want to come over? Or is it too late?"_

He chuckled. "I think Mom will let me break curfew tonight."

"_Very funny. But if you're too tired, I understand."_

"Are you still in the West Wing?" he asked as he sat up and turned on the bedside lamp.

"_Upstairs."_

"Okay. See you in a few."

XXXXXXXXXX

"Good evening, Mr. West," Rod said to the Deputy Chief Usher, who greeted him in the Entry Hall.

"Good evening, sir," he replied. "The President is in the Treaty Room."

"Is she alone?"

"Yes, sir."

Rod walked upstairs and into the room that many recent presidents, including Mac, have used as a home office. He opened the door and found her on the telephone, back turned.

"Anthony," he heard her say, "you sound like a broken record with this 'there's nothing we can do crap.' It's pathetic. There has to be something. I'm tired of sitting on my hands while innocent people are murdered. I want you, State, and all of the area experts on the schedule first thing Monday. Tell Jim I don't care what he has to move or reschedule but I want this to happen. And Anthony… I want answers."

She hung up the phone and slammed her fist down on her desk, a table originally used by Ulysses Grant for cabinet meetings. "Dammit!" she exclaimed and then stood virtually motionless.

He stepped further into the room. "Mackenzie?"

She turned around and saw him. "I'm sorry," she told him, her voice uneven. "I didn't hear you come in."

He'd never seen her this way. "What is it?"

"New outbreaks of genocide in the Sudan. Ten thousand, they believe, in the last forty-eight hours. Women, children it doesn't matter. All slaughtered like livestock." She felt herself tremble and knew her voice was as unsteady as her legs. "Innocent children," she choked out. "Children like Grace."

He extended his arms. "Come here."

She heard the understanding in his voice, and felt his strength reach out to her with his open arms. She sighed as she walked into his waiting embrace and buried her face in his chest, her cheek pressed against his heart. How had she ever believed she could survive this job on her own? She'd told her mother she wasn't sure she could cope with only friendship. She was wrong. She needed his friendship—needed him.

She was surprised when his touch turned from comfort to something else entirely. She lifted her face to his and was shocked to find passion smoldering in his ever-expressive eyes. Shock, however, turned to amazement as his head lowered and his mouth found hers. She closed her eyes and moved closer into him, her arms sliding around his neck as he cupped the back of her head. The way his mouth fit with hers was achingly familiar. She opened to the probe of his tongue as he tantalizingly traced the line of her bottom lip before claiming her full mouth once again. She could feel the unmistakable evidence of his desire against her hip and an involuntary groan escaped. Blindly she sought out the buttons of his shirt and felt him stiffen. Then, without warning, he released her and took a step back. She blinked up at him, dazed. But instead of answers she found only confusion and disquiet.

"What is it?" she asked. "What?" she pressed when her question went unanswered.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, raking his hand through his hair. "That shouldn't have happened. You needed comfort and instead I…."

"Roderic," she gently interrupted, taking his hand. "It wasn't just you. I want you, too."

"Mac…" he groaned.

"What happened before won't happen again, I promise." She'd meant to reassure him with her words and not cause the ragged, irregularity of breath and the tormented expression that haunted his face. She moved closer to him and lightly caressed his cheek. "What is it? Please talk to me."

He took her hand and kissed it. "It would be so easy to be with you. But we're not who we were before and it wouldn't be right."

"Rod," she protested, "we're available and consenting adults. There's so much that's good between us. How could it—we—be wrong?"

"What about afterwards, Mac? What then?" He let go of her hand. "I couldn't stay—you know that's true. There's too much at stake, especially for you. What I told you weeks ago still exists today. We couldn't make it before. And now it would be impossible: my job, your job, my kids, where we live. Our lives aren't compatible."

"I'm not asking for a lifetime commitment."

"But that's what you deserve, and that's beyond my power to give. Not to mention the damage it would cause you politically. Much as you want to remove gender from this election, there has always been a double standard as to what is acceptable for a man as opposed to a woman. You know that better than anyone." He began to pace while again running a hand through his hair. "Don't you see? If we gave in now, I'd be using you… and what's worse, I'd be hurting you. And I would hate myself."

She went to him and cupped his face with her hands. "That's not you," she told him gazing directly in his eyes. "You're not that man. I know that's how it must have appeared to you before. But that was me, and not you. You were never anything but wonderful with me."

"But it's how I would feel. I can't go through that again."

"Can I ask you a question?"

He nodded.

She took him by the hand and led him over to the sofa. Once they were seated, she said, "Has there been anyone since Lauren?"

"Once, many years ago," he admitted. "She was a beautiful, warm, and gracious woman."

"Tell me."

"We dated for a time and she was in love with me, I think. I didn't realize it until afterwards but I wasn't with her for the right reasons. I wanted to love her—hoped I would come to love her. I was wrong. It wasn't about love. It was about proving to myself that I had moved on. It was sex. Nothing more. Luckily, I realized it before we went all the way. But still, it was the biggest mistake of my life. She deserved better. I hate myself for doing that to her. And you mean so much more. You deserve so much more. It's different with you. I know that, but…"

"And if I weren't the President of the United States? Or you weren't a judge?"

He shook his head. "I don't know, Mackenzie. I just don't know." He sighed deeply. "But that's not reality. You are the President, and I am a judge. And this is an election year. You're life is here, mine is in Atlanta. That's not something we can change. We can't go back. To try would only hurt us both."

She recognized the emotion and internal conflict behind his words. _Love hasn't been easy on him,_ she heard her mother say again. _Give him a little time to catch up._ "I understand," she finally replied. "I disagree. I'm willing to be with you under any circumstances and to risk everything if that's what it takes."

"Mac, I can't…"

"Let me finish."

He nodded.

"I know you want me. I can feel it. I want you, too. It could never be just sex between us—you know that's true."

"But…" He again began to protest.

She reached out and put a finger to his lips. "Let me finish."

"Okay," he agreed with a sheepish grin.

"You told me once it could never be right until it was right for both of us. What you said was true then, and it's true now."

"It was different then."

"You think I don't know that? Know how stupid I was? Understand what I gave up?"

He reached out to her. "I didn't mean it like that… I just meant there's too much in our way now—too many obstacles and responsibilities."

"So if I lose in November, what then?"

"I don't know, Mac. I just don't know."

She watched as his voice trailed off and he fell into a thoughtful, almost desolate, silence. After a time she scooted over next to him, and tentatively laid her hand on his leg.

Feeling her warm, gentle touch, he first looked down to where her hand rested across his thigh before lifting his face to hers.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Are you sure?" she asked indulgently, her voice taking on a much softer quality than usual.

He shifted his weight to better match her angle towards him. "I'm sure."

She gave him a smile before playfully suggesting, "Well, can we at least be close friends? Friends who cuddle?"

"Friends who cuddle?" he questioned. "Not just hug?"

"Nope," she replied with a shake of the head. "Cuddle."

"I don't know if the tough guy in me can take being the Secretary of Cuddling. Hugging was pushing it," he protested with a grin.

"I think you can take it," she said, bravely and shamelessly pressing her body to his. She felt relief wash over her when his arms instantly wrapped around her and she could feel him relax. She nuzzled her face against his neck. "In fact, you're going to love it so much you'll want to be Secretary of Kissing, too."

He angled his head so he could better see her. "What am I going to do with you?" he complained looking down into her face.

She smiled. Provocatively she suggested, "I know what I want you to do with me…. But I guess I'll have to settle for a movie, a little popcorn, your arm around me and my head on your shoulder. Unless, of course, it's too late and you're too tired."

"I'm old, Mackenzie, but I'm not that old."

Mac extended a hand to him and together they walked into the hall where she immediately noticed a large gift box. "Is this yours?" she asked.

"Nope," he replied. "It's yours—for you I mean."

"What is it?"

"Why do people always ask stupid questions like that? As if I'm going to tell you before you open it."

She laughed.

"So… are you?"

"What?"

"Going to open it?" he asked excitedly.

"Yeah, but first I have something for you, too," she explained.

"You do?"

"Uh huh."

"What is it?" he asked automatically.

She laughed again and disappeared down the hall. He picked up the box from the table and followed her down to the West Sitting Hall. When she emerged from her bedroom she was carrying a similar sized wrapped box. They exchanged gifts and she told him, "I think you should go first."

"No way," he said shaking his head. "Ladies first."

"What happened to age before beauty?" she protested.

"How about we compromise and do it at the same time?"

She readily agreed. "Deal, Your Honor."

They sat next to each other on one of the sofas, and what started out as a slow, tentative endeavor ended up in a frenzied competition as they raced to be the first to discover the contents inside their respective box. Almost simultaneously they broke out in laughter as they extricated identical silk Red Sox jackets from the tissue paper. When their eyes met, they both said at the same time, "Look on the back."

Mac turned hers over and found "Madam President" stitched in big white letters across the back. Rod did the same and discovered that "First Coach" had been added to his résumé.

"You've given me so many titles, I'm having a hard time keeping track of them all," he teased. "But thank you."

"You, too. Should we try them on?"

"Absolutely," he agreed.

They set the boxes aside and slipped on their jackets.

"Perfect fit," she commented as she zipped hers up. "Did Sydney help you with sizing again?"

"Yeah," he acknowledged. "I wanted it to work with the Kevlar vest under it. So who helped you?"

"Who do you think?"

"Junior?"

She nodded. "But it killed him that I absolutely insisted that it had to be Boston. I'm getting more pressure from him about being in Atlanta next opening day than I did from William."

He laughed.

"Ready for that movie?" she asked. "Who knows? There might even be an old, boring documentary around somewhere." She remembered what he'd told her years ago about his parents using documentaries to ensure themselves a little kid-free privacy in the home theater room.

"You're incorrigible," he told her.

"Hey!" she protested. "That's my line!"

"Not any more," he said dryly with a shake of his head. "Not any more."


	27. First Pitch

**25. First Pitch**

**Saturday, April 2, 2016**

"Madam President, it's time," Agent Rivers said, having received the word through his earpiece.

"Thanks, Jeffrey." Mac took a deep breath. After greeting both teams in their respective clubhouses, she'd been waiting and autographing baseballs in a little anteroom behind the Red Sox dugout. She stood and faced Rod.

"You can do this," he told her with a warm smile as he handed her the baseball glove. "You're all warmed up. It's the exact same dimensions as you've been throwing at home. You did great in the indoor bullpen. This will be no different."

"Except there are 50,000 people out there and who knows how many watching on TV."

"Please!" he replied, rolling his eyes. "You are in front of big crowds weekly and on television twenty-four hours a day."

"Not throwing a little round object a mile into only a slightly bigger object."

He smirked. "You politicians are all alike. Always looking to spin your eventual triumph and get a bigger bump in the polls."

In spite of herself, Mac laughed and then began fidgeting with her glove.

Through the laughter he'd intended, he could feel her nervous tension. This was a brave thing she'd chosen—definitely not the easy way out. "Mackenzie," he said softly. The expression on her face when she looked up at him was so adorable that his breath caught and he had to resist the urge to kiss her. Seeking to quell her anxiety, he told her calmly, "When you're ready to throw, concentrate on the catcher and pretend you're playing catch with Cooper in the back yard."

She nodded, taking a deep breath. _Cooper in the back yard_, she silently repeated.

"Won't you please reconsider wearing the vest?" he asked. He hesitated saying anything, but it scared him every time she appeared in the open, or before such a crowd. He felt so helpless.

"I tried it on like I said I would. But it makes me look fat, and it interferes with my throwing motion," she insisted, putting her glove down on the table. She grabbed her new jacket.

"Here, let me help you," he said as he held it for her to slip on.

"Thanks," she told him. "Anyway, the vest won't save me from the thing that killed Kennedy."

"A shot to the head?"

"Exactly."

"Doesn't make me feel better," he said wryly as he put his own jacket on.

She smiled. "Now you sound like my mother."

He laughed and tried to bury his fear for her. "Go get 'em, kiddo."

"You're coming, aren't you?" she said with a hint of desperation.

"Wouldn't miss it. I'll be waiting for you in front of the dugout," he assured her.

"Good," she said with a sigh.

"Come here," he told her. "I think you need a hug."

"A great big one," she answered walking into his embrace. She always felt such peace in his strong, yet tender arms.

He held her tight for a few moments and then released her with a brief kiss. "For luck," he told her, before picking up her glove off the table and handing it to her.

Agent Rivers caught his partner's eyes and the two of them shared a conspiratorial smile. There'd been a change in the boss since Judge Calloway had first come round a month ago. He'd come to respect and admire her the past year. What was more, he liked her. Jess was right. She deserved to have a good man in her life. Someone she could be herself with and rely on. The Judge appeared to be a very good man. He had to be to have raised a son like Cooper. He opened the door and with Jess led the two of them through the dugout to the edge of the first base side of the field. They were trailed by other agents and joined by an army of agents already in the stadium, including a couple dressed as members of both teams and one masquerading as an umpire.

"Take a deep breath, wind up slow, and let it rip," Rod told Mac as they stood waiting for her to be announced after the National Anthem had been played.

"I think I can handle that," she said with a coy smile.

"That's my girl!" he replied with a cocky grin seeing the fire in her eyes. The simple act of stepping in front of the crowd had put her in both "President" and "competitive Mac" mode, and the two of them together formed a lethal combination.

_"Ladies and gentleman, to throw out the ceremonial first pitch this afternoon, please welcome the President of the United States!"_ the announcer declared.

"Excuse me a minute," she whispered to him as the announcer finished. "Time for Mackenzie Allen to bring the heat."

Grinning ear to ear, Rod watched as she waved to the crowd, warmly shook hands with the catcher and then purposefully strode all the way back to the mound before directing her surprised battery mate into his crouch. He watched as she took a deep breath and then glanced at him one last time. He smiled and when she nodded back at him, he knew she was about to make history again.

XXXXXXXXXX

As the President entered the stadium all eyes were on her. Except for those belonging to the agents of the presidential protection detail, who constantly surveyed the crowd, and Will and Elizabeth Calloway who, standing in a luxury suite, had their eyes fixed on their oldest son as he stood next to her wearing an identical Red Sox jacket.

Will, in particular, studied him closely. Upon their return from Africa a few days ago, his mother had immediately informed them of the differences in Rod when he was with Mackenzie. Alex had said much the same when he'd gone to the office. He'd been skeptical, but no longer. He saw something in his son he hadn't seen in thirteen years:

_April 7, 2003_

_As the minister closed with a prayer over the grave of his daughter in law, Will could hear the soft cries of his only grandchildren. His heart broke once more for the suffering of his family. He looked sideways at his oldest child and his respect for his boy grew even greater. Rod was lovingly holding both twins on his lap, and was speaking soft soothing words to them as they both buried their heads into his chest. With futility, they'd tried to assist him at the funeral and here at the cemetery. But except for when he spoke during the service, neither Cooper nor Rebecca would be moved from him. Helplessly, Will had watched as he patiently held them all day, paying little heed to his own suffering and focusing only on their needs. He'd been stoic all week, thinking only of paying tribute to Lauren, caring for their children and offering support to her family._

_After the benediction, he watched as Rod, still holding the twins, thanked everyone for their support and attendance until only immediate family were left. He could see the glazed look in his eyes. He looked at Elizabeth and saw written on her brow the same anguish and pride he felt._

_His wife met his gaze and came to him. "I think he needs a little time to say his own goodbye. He hasn't had a minute's peace all week," she told him._

_He nodded and they walked over to him where they were joined by Lauren's parents, who must have witnessed the same thing. _

_"Would you like a few minutes alone?" Elizabeth asked him. _

_"Would you mind?" Rod gratefully replied._

_"Not at all," he assured him._

_"Would you take them home?" Rod said gesturing to the twins in his arms. "I could use a little time here. I'll call a cab when I'm done."_

_"One of us will wait and drive you home," William told him._

_Rod shook his head. "No. It's been a long day for all of you and I'd rather have you be with the twins. They're exhausted. I'll be all right."_

_"If that's what you want," Anne told him._

_"It is. Thank you."_

_They had to pry the twins away from his arms. He carried a screaming Becca while William took a similarly distraught Cooper. He hated to leave his son alone. But it was what he wanted._

_However, when Rod had not returned more than ninety minutes later, he drove back to the cemetery. It was nearing dusk and the temperature was dropping. When he reached the crest of the little hill where Lauren would rest, he found his son sitting at the base of the tree at the head of her grave, knees bent and head down. The grave had been covered with dirt and the sod replaced over the top. He should have known Rod could not leave. He should have stayed and been here for him. What torture it must have been for him to watch as shovel by shovel, inch by inch, his wife disappeared into the ground._

_Will approached him and gently put a hand on his shoulder. "Son," he said softly, "it's time. There's nothing more you can do for her. You've already done everything that is humanly possible to do."_

_Rod looked up at him with such utter devastation he would never forget it. He pulled him up into his arms and held him as at last he wept.__When he was finished, Will watched in amazement as he dried his eyes and adopted a posture of steely resolve. Then they drove home with Rod talking non-stop about the new baseball season and the bank._

They'd never spoken about that experience, and to his knowledge that was the only time Rod had broke down over his loss. But the haunted, hollow look in his eyes had never completely disappeared... until now.

Will felt his wife's hand on his arm. He looked down and saw that Elizabeth, too, had a few tears in her eyes. They'd been married for almost forty-eight years, yet his love and respect for her continued to grow. Together they'd shared joy and sorrow, experienced love and loss, sampled pleasure and pain. The significance of the date was not lost on either of them. But this was a moment they would remember for the rest of their lives. "He's back," he whispered to her as she leaned against him.

Elizabeth sighed. "I hope so. It's been so long. But I can't bear the thought that his heart could be broken again. I'm not sure he'd recover."

"You're concerned about her? What she feels?" he asked.

"I don't know, Will," she said with another sigh. "I just don't know. I know your mother doesn't have any doubts, and neither does Alex."

He stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her. "But you're his mother and you worry."

"Yeah," she agreed tilting her face up to look at him.

"So spend some time with her today. Get to know her again."

"Oh, I plan to," she told him with a smug smile. "If you boys will stay out of the way."

Will laughed and then lightly rested his chin on the top of her head. Together they watched with amusement as Mac wound up with a motion almost identical to that Rod used when he pitched, then unknowingly held their breath as she threw it hard into the catcher's mitt with very little adjustment on his part. They cheered with the rest of the stadium as the catcher immediately stood in triumph holding the ball high then bowed in an exaggerated show of respect towards the mound. But unlike the rest of the crowd in the excitement of the moment, they didn't miss the intimate look of pride and adoration that passed between her and their son as she approached the catcher to retrieve the ball.

XXXXXXXXXX

"You were incredible," Rod told Mackenzie when finally they'd made it through the dugout and were back in the hallway. The reception from the crowd for her performance had been unbelievable. They'd stood and cheered so long that the Boston players had cajoled her into making a curtain call. Their captain, pitcher Josh Beckett, had removed his hat and handed it to her, showing her how to tip it to the crowd. He'd laughed with the rest of the dugout when she'd climbed back out on the field and had tipped the hat to the crowd with great embellishment.

When finally they were out of public view, Mac, feeling on top of the world, asked the indulgence of their hosts, and with a touch of his hand and a slight cock of the head, she directed Rod back into the little anteroom so they could have a private moment together. She caught Jessica's eye and the agent smiled in understanding, shutting the door behind them.

"What is it?" Rod asked when they were alone in the room.

"Nothing," she told him. "Just wanted to say thank you." She put her new cap on his head and then pulled the baseball from her pocket and placed it in his hands, letting her fingers linger entwined with his for a moment.

"These belong to you," he told her looking down at their hands. "It was a moment of triumph… soon to be legend."

"They belong to us," she softly corrected as she moved a little closer to him. "Without you, this never could have happened." It pleased her immensely when he lifted his head in response and they shared an intimate smile. "I must admit though, we were pretty amazing," she teased.

"You know what Mark Twain would say about using the universal 'we,' don't you?" He paused a moment for effect. "That 'only royalty and people with tape worms' should do it. So which one are you?" he questioned with a little smirk.

Mac grinned before offering in retort, "He'd be wrong in this instance because I meant 'us'—you and me."

"Well, in that case: Yes, we were amazing!" he said with a chuckle as he put the hat on her head and pocketed the ball. "Ready to go upstairs? There are some people up there very anxious to see you."

"I'm anxious to see them, too," she said with shy smile as she removed the cap, suddenly nervous about seeing his parents again.

XXXXXXXXXX

An hour later, after visiting with Red Sox ownership and management, the American League President, and the Commissioner of Baseball, they entered the suite that at her request had been reserved for "the President and her party."

It consisted of an indoor area with a private bathroom, table and kitchenette, and a sitting area with a leather sofa and love seat. A generous buffet had been set out on an island bar. From inside, the game could be viewed through big windows, whose regular glass had been temporarily replaced with thick bulletproof panes. Immediately outside the room were two small rows of stadium seating where the real sights and sounds of the game could be experienced. Three agents in plain clothes stood post in the outdoor seating area, and a number of agents were posted in the halls outside the suite, while Jeffrey and Jessica accompanied them inside.

"Anybody home?" Rod called out playfully as they walked inside.

"It's about time," his father said as he strode towards them.

Other than grey hair and a few more wrinkles, Will Calloway, at seventy-three, looked exactly the same as he had twenty-one years ago, Mac thought as he hugged his son and then greeted her.

"It's good to see you, Madam President," he told her warmly with a kiss on the cheek.

"If we're going to stand on formality," she insisted with a mischievous grin, "I'll have to call you 'Mr. Calloway,' or at the very least 'William.'"

"We definitely can't have that," he replied with a sparkle in his deep blue eyes.

Before Mac could reply, Elizabeth Calloway joined them. "Madam President, thank you for inviting us. It is wonderful to see you."

"Welcome home," she replied warmly. "I'm thrilled you were able to join us. But no 'Madam President.' Not from you."

Elizabeth nodded in agreement.

"Hi, Mom," Rod said to Elizabeth with a kiss. "You certainly don't look like you're suffering from jet lag."

Indeed, she didn't, thought Mac. In fact, it was almost impossible to believe that she was sixty-eight years old. Elizabeth Amelia Harrison Calloway continued to be a beautiful woman. Her dark blonde hair was cut shorter than Mac remembered, but she was still slender, and her green eyes remained alert and penetrating. There wasn't much that took place in and around her family that got past those eyes.

"It's always easier traveling to the West," Elizabeth reminded her son before returning her focus to his companion. "Mackenzie, you were magnificent out there today. If I didn't know better, I'd swear you'd been pitching all your life."

"Well, it wasn't a strike but at least it got there."

"Mac, it was close enough," Will told her.

"I have your son—and grandson—to thank," she replied with an affectionate glance at Rod, who was now standing next to her.

"She's a fierce competitor," he reminded his parents as he gave her shoulder a little squeeze. "Next year I'm thinking she'll have to throw a breaking ball to top what she did today."

Mac laughed with the others, but then added, "If I'm still in office next year."

"Oh, we know better than to doubt that," Elizabeth told her.

"We certainly do," Will added. "If you all will excuse me, I'm going to get some food and then watch a few innings from outside." He knew better than to get in the way of his wife's plans.

Mac smiled and nodded her thanks as she unzipped her jacket and began to take it off.

"Hungry?" Rod asked her as he helped her with the jacket and then took off his own.

She shook her head. "Thirsty."

"Water? Or something harder?" he asked. He hung up their jackets on a coat rack.

"Water right now," she said. "Thanks."

"Mom?"

"I've got a drink over here," Elizabeth answered. "Come sit down, Mackenzie, and we can catch up. I want to hear about the White House and all the mischief my grandson undoubtedly makes."

Mac laughed and took a seat next to her on the adjacent loveseat. "Where are Cooper and Christopher?" she asked.

"Outside. I'm sure they'll be in shortly looking for more food."

"Typical Calloway men."

"They sure are," Elizabeth replied with a smile of her own.

"Here you go." Rod handed Mackenzie a tall glass of ice water and perched himself on the arm of the loveseat. It was the perfect spot. He could talk with his mother and Mackenzie and still keep an eye on the game.

"Thanks," she said with a sigh before emptying half the glass with a single gulp. "That hit the spot."

"Are you sure I can't get you some food?" he asked with a touch of concern in his voice. "You hardly ate earlier."

"Not yet," she said with a small shake of the head, looking up into his face. "I'm still too keyed up."

He nodded. "Mom?"

"I'll get something in a minute."

"Go get yourself a plate," Mac told him with a knowing smile. "You didn't eat much earlier either."

"Okay," he conceded with a gesture of surrender as he plopped himself down next to her. "I admit it. I was nervous."

"Not terrified?" she playfully suggested.

"Only mildly panicked."

"Are you sure that's your story?"

"Uh huh… And I'm sticking to it," he said definitively.

"Go eat," she told him lightly, stroking his cheek. "You've earned it, coach."

"Yes, Madam President," he intoned deferentially.

Observing their exchange and the way he looked at her and took care of her, Elizabeth knew her husband was right. Their son was back. Although apparently, from what her family had told her, he hadn't yet reconciled himself with it. She was relieved to see that Mackenzie's eyes followed him as he walked towards the buffet.

"Hey Mackenzie," Cooper said, walking into the suite with Christopher Calloway.

Mac turned and smiled at them, set her drink down on the end table, and rose from the loveseat. Looking at the two of them she was struck by the reality that as much as Cooper's smile resembled his father's, his coloring and build were identical to his uncle.

"You were awesome," he told her. "Can we do this more often? Especially this part," he said, appraising their surroundings.

She noticed his empty plate with amusement. "Go to another game?" she asked rhetorically. "Maybe. But I'm in no hurry to take the mound again."

"Why not?" he asked perplexed. "You were fantastic. I got some great shots and I'm sure the White House photographer got even better ones."

"We'll see," she replied noncommittally.

She watched him join his father and grandmother at the buffet before turning to his uncle. "Hello, Christopher. It's been a long time," she said with a disbelieving shake of the head. "I can hardly believe you were younger than Cooper back then. It's good to see you."

"You, too, Madam President," he answered with a chivalrous bow.

She laughed. "No 'Madam President' today, 'Mister Calloway,'" she countered, placing a heavy emphasis on the "Mister."

"Okay, Mac," he acknowledged. "Listen," he told her while gesturing towards Rod, "if he doesn't treat you right, I'm available."

She laughed again. "What? And break the hearts of women all over New England and the Mid-Atlantic? Europe, too, from what I hear."

"It's a tough job," he admitted with a smile. Then seeing that Rod was approaching, he whispered to her, "Thanks for putting the smile back on my big brother's face."

"It's a tough job," she mimicked.

"What have you two got your heads together about?" Rod asked as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm just telling Mac there's no need to hang out with boring, geriatric you when I'm so much more fun and better looking," Christopher told him with a grin.

"And obviously humble, too," Rod replied.

"Must run in the family," Mac teased with a straight face. However, no matter how fun or attractive Christopher Harrison Calloway may be, in her eyes he could never compare to Roderic Gabriel Calloway standing solicitously at her side, gently kneading the muscles at the base of her neck.

"It's our middle name," Christopher retorted. "If you'll excuse me, it appears my nephew is taking all the good stuff and I don't want to get shut out. Don't forget my offer, Mac. Younger worked out well for Alex, you know. And I'd look much better on your arm than the old man here."

"I'll keep you in mind," she assured him. "Particularly when I need an escort for Wagner's _The Ring_ cycle—all fifteen hours."

He groaned audibly as he walked away.

With a smile, she returned her attention to his much sexier sibling. "He's still much the same, isn't he?"

"In a lot of ways. Typical baby of the family," he added with a chuckle. He also handed her his plate. "Eat," he told her.

"What about you?"

"Ladies first," he insisted. "Would you like something else to drink?"

"I'll get some more water."

"I've got it. Go sit back down." He patted her on the behind and directed her towards the sitting area.

Though she was thrilled simply to be with him, after last night she was finding it so hard not to have the freedom to kiss him and touch him. She sighed. His company was increasingly torturous and delightful. But she'd pushed him too far already. She didn't dare do more.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mac took a seat on the sofa. "I have to admit this does look good," she told Elizabeth, who was already sitting on the loveseat.

"It tastes pretty good, too," Elizabeth replied. "I don't know what it is about hot dogs and baseball. But somehow they always taste a million times better at the parks."

Mac smiled. "You must have done this on hundreds of occasions over the years."

"Thousands, I think," Elizabeth said, thinking back across the decades. "But nobody else has quite the passion for the game as Roderic. From the time he was just a toddler that little white ball has entranced him."

Mac's smile grew wider; and somehow she fell deeper in love at the thought of a little dark haired, green-eyed tyke staring at the television, and constantly lugging around a ball and bat. "Lucky for me. Today would have been an utter disaster otherwise."

Elizabeth laughed.

After the two of them got a good start on their dinner, Mac asked, "How was Africa, Dr. Calloway?"

"Can you believe that?" Elizabeth said.

"Of course, I can. Look where I ended up," Mac replied with a sardonic smile. "Although I have to admit to being a little surprised when Cooper told me you'd gone to medical school."

"Well, Will practically had to hog-tie me to get me to apply once Christopher was settled at Yale," she admitted. "It had been thirty years since I graduated from Columbia and I was terrified of going back."

"Was it worth it?" Mac asked. She couldn't imagine starting over professionally.

"You know, it was," Elizabeth acknowledged. "To be perfectly honest, I don't know what I'd do with my time without it. I generally work two days a week at a free clinic in New Haven, and I love it."

"And regularly in Africa from what Rod tells me. Uganda, is that right?"

"Mostly," Elizabeth said. "We've fallen in love with the people and the land. This trip we spent some time in Kenya, too. Sydney, John and their children came and spent ten days with us. They did some humanitarian work and then we all went on a short safari. It was so good for the kids to see how truly blessed they are, and how easy they have it. To realize that basic things they take completely for granted are the difference between life and death for a large part of the world's population."

Mac sighed as inevitably she was reminded of yesterday's tragic news from the Sudan. "I'd like to have a serious discussion with both of you about Africa and what we need to change from our end… and soon, if you don't mind."

"You didn't already get a lecture on the subject from Rebecca?" Elizabeth asked knowingly.

"Oh, I did," Mac admitted with a smile. Very quickly, however, she turned serious. "But what it did was remind me of how much I don't know, and how much I need to know."

"I don't envy you. But I'm very glad that you are the one with the power," Elizabeth told her with thoughtful sincerity.

"Thank you," Mac said sedately. "How is Sydney?" she asked changing the subject.

"She's terrific. Works freelance as a fashion designer from home, and is busy with four very active kids, and often Grace when Matt is out of town."

"Little terrors," Rod added as he joined them. Again he perched himself with his plate on the arm of the sofa so he could keep an eye on the game.

"What does John do?" Mac asked them.

"He's a state court judge," Rod told her. "He's a good man… for a Harvard grad."

Mac laughed while Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "How old are their children?" she asked.

"Harrison is ten. He's very smart, loves sports and worships Cooper," Elizabeth replied.

"Your namesake?" Mac questioned.

"How'd you remember that?" Elizabeth asked in surprise.

She shrugged.

"That's why she's the leader of the free world," Rod joked.

This time Elizabeth laughed while Mac rolled her eyes.

Elizabeth continued, "The twins, Mia and Taylor, are six. They are a week older than Grace."

"The three musketeers—or princesses," Rod informed her.

"Well, if they are half as adorable as Grace…."

"Oh, they are," Elizabeth assured her. "Which is fortunate because little Jack is a handful. He's two and currently into everything."

"Soon to be joined by a little cousin he can teach all his tricks to," Mac commented with a smile.

Elizabeth nodded. "We are all thrilled and very anxious for that baby to make his appearance."

"It was wonderful to spend some time with Alex again and to meet Matt. And I'm crazy about Grace."

"She's crazy about you," Elizabeth informed her. "She can't stop talking about 'Madam President.'"

Mac laughed.

"I can't believe we missed Cooper as the Easter Bunny," Elizabeth said with obvious disappointment.

"Well, I'll just have to order him to do it again next year, provided, of course, that I'm still in office."

"We'll look forward to it. We really miss having him in New Haven."

"I can certainly understand that," Mac allowed. "But I'm sorry, I'm not about to let him go." She heard Rod cringe following her declaration. Concerned, she looked up at him and quickly realized that his body was the only part of him still in the room. He couldn't keep his eyes off the field and his focus was completely on that little white ball. She scooted over a little and began to rub his leg. It took him a minute to acknowledge her touch. When he finally looked down at her, she told him, "Go outside and enjoy the game. You know you want to be out there."

"Sure?" he questioned. The Secret Service preferred that she remain inside. He preferred that, too. And his mother was generally only interested in sports if someone she loved was participating.

"I'm sure. You've been waiting for baseball season for months. Go enjoy it." Besides, she was anxious to have a little quiet conversation with his mother. Mac remembered the ease of their first private conversation all those years ago and hoped today would be the same. She desperately needed the insight and understanding that only Elizabeth could provide.

"Okay," he said relieved. "Can I get you anything first?"

"I'm good," she assured him.

"Mom?" he asked.

"I'm fine. Now leave us in peace. You're like a caged bear in here."

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a grin while Mac laughed.

Mac watched him walk outside before turning to Elizabeth. "I'm so glad you, Will and Christopher were able to join us. It means a lot to me that after everything you would want to be here."

"You mean after what happened between you in law school?" Elizabeth clarified.

She nodded.

Elizabeth smiled briefly. "Both of you have done well for yourselves. You should be proud. But what really happened between you?"

Mac met her searching gaze and concluded this was not a question borne out of idle curiosity. Intuition told her that it was important to both of them. "I wasn't ready for us then," she replied honestly. "I'd been hurt before and was afraid of getting my heart broke again. Because of that I listened to someone I shouldn't have. I regret that every day when I think about what we could have had together."

"The timing wasn't right then, but maybe it is now?" Elizabeth kindly suggested taking a seat next to her on the sofa.

"I wish that were true," Mac sighed.

Elizabeth raised an inquiring brow.

"Rod has decided there is no second chance for us, and that a real relationship between us now is impossible. There is no going back, and we can't move forward either because our jobs and lives are incompatible."

"You don't believe him?"

"I don't know what to believe," Mac admitted, hoping Elizabeth might have some answers. "It's not like him. He's never been one to see roadblocks, only possibilities. Yet he's absolutely convinced the only relationship we can have is as 'friends.'"

"Friends," Elizabeth repeated with a chuckle. "Is that what he's calling it?"

"I'm serious," Mac protested.

"I know you are," she answered soberly. "Mackenzie, he doesn't know what else to call it. He hasn't given himself permission to think of it as anything else."

"It's been so long. How can he still feel that way?"

"The answer to that, I think, is as complex as the man," Elizabeth answered.

"Is it Lauren?" Mac asked hesitantly.

"Partially," Elizabeth acknowledged with a thoughtful nod.

Mac felt her heart sink. "How can I possibly compete with a ghost? A memory?"

"You don't have to compete. Lauren was a wonderful woman, but she's not the barrier you think," Elizabeth assured her with a gentle smile.

"She's not?" Mac was stunned.

She shook her head. "Not directly. It's his sense of duty and loyalty that are more the challenge when he thinks about you. He's coping with it by casting you in the role of 'friend.'"

Mac thought about that for a moment. "My mother and Rebecca are convinced he feels more."

"What do you think?" Elizabeth pressed.

"Sometimes I'm almost sure he feels more. But then he's so adamant it can't be more."

"He's still fighting the loss—pretending he's unaffected by the past instead of facing it and putting it in its proper perspective."

"From Lauren," Mac stated.

"Mostly," Elizabeth replied thoughtfully. "Her death knocked him down hard, even though he knew it was coming. But also from you."

"Me?" she questioned. "That's hard to believe. He moved on so quickly."

"Only after an intervention, a lot of anger, denial and heartache; and ultimately a lot of patience and understanding from Lauren," Elizabeth said. After a moment's hesitation, she continued, "Mackenzie, he's only loved two women in his life: Lauren and you. When he loves, he loves completely and without reservation. He gives everything he has to give. Your breakup devastated him. Somehow he believes that you didn't trust him or believe in him. It wounded him deeply."

Mac sighed. "Between the two of us we really did a number on him, didn't we?"

Elizabeth nodded. "He's terrified to open his heart because he never wants to feel that way again. Although I don't think he's recognized that in himself… and he certainly hasn't admitted to feeling that way. And on top of it all there's the guilt."

"The guilt?"

Elizabeth sighed. "For not being able to make up for the twins growing up without their mother. For not being able to save her, or their child…. For being the one who lived."

"Their child?" Mac asked.

"Lauren was five months pregnant when they discovered the cancer," Elizabeth told her. "The treatment, which they couldn't put off—treatment he begged her to have, caused her to miscarry. In the end, he and the twins lost them both. Subconsciously he blames himself and views it as a personal failure. That he should have done more, been more."

She was again stunned. "I had no idea."

"Almost nobody does," Elizabeth acknowledged. "He doesn't speak of it. He doesn't speak about any of it."

Mac's heart ached for him: For what he'd been through, and for what she could have saved him from had they stayed together. "Elizabeth, how do I reach him? Break through the barriers standing between us?"

Elizabeth smiled internally at the question, then with all seriousness she replied, "What does he mean to you? When you know that, you'll understand what to do."

Without hesitation she replied with quiet conviction, "He means everything to me. I love him. I can't imagine my life anymore without him in it. If it means having to remain only friends then I'll have to live with that particularly since it's my fault to begin with, but I want his love again so desperately." She paused and took a deep breath to keep her emotions at bay. "Mostly, though, what I want is for him to be happy and at peace."

Elizabeth felt her heart take flight. This is what she'd wanted for her son for so long. "Have you told him how you feel?"

She shook her head. "No. We've been working on building a new relationship with each other. He knows I want a second chance. But I've tried to respect his feelings. I told him I wouldn't ask for more than friendship."

"Is that the only reason you've kept quiet?" Elizabeth pressed gently.

Mac looked at her and realized again how very astute this woman was about people. She took a deep breath and admitted, "I suppose a large part of me fears rejection, too."

Elizabeth smiled knowingly. She laid a hand on Mackenzie's arm and when their eyes locked, she said, "Tell him how you feel. After everything he's been through, he needs to be told—and often. It might make all the difference in the world. Trust me, he's not going anywhere. He doesn't know it yet. But I do."

Mac nodded, already lost in thought about what she should do and say.

"If you don't mind," Elizabeth asked, "I'll go and join the boys for a while."

Mac nodded again. But as the older woman stood she said, "Elizabeth?"

She turned.

"Thank you," Mac told her with sincerity. "For everything."

Elizabeth smiled. "Rod loves you. I'm sure of it. But he needs to hear it from you first. He needs to know that you trust him with your heart, and with everything you are and desire to be."

Mac, too, smiled. "I think I know just what to do," she said as an idea suddenly hit her. She went and removed Rod's phone from his jacket pocket. She needed to make a call.

XXXXXXXXXX

Elizabeth joined the men in her family and was relieved to see that it was already the sixth-inning. As she sat down, Rod asked, "Everything okay?"

She nodded. "Fine. Mackenzie's just on the phone."

"Problem?" he questioned with a concerned brow.

"I don't think so."

Nonetheless, he decided to check on her. "Thanks, Jim," he heard her say as he walked inside.

"Hey," she said hanging up his phone. "Had to borrow your phone. Hope that's okay. I didn't want to disturb Cooper to get mine."

"Trouble?" he asked.

"Not at all," she assured him. "I just need something done for next week."

"Okay," he shrugged. "How about an ice cream bar?"

"I'd love one."

"Creamsicle, Fudgesicle, or Eskimo Pie?" he called out after surveying the contents of the freezer.

"Surprise me," she said with a lighthearted smile.

"Is this a test?" he threw back with a tease.

"Do you want it to be?"

He held up his hands. "No way!"

She laughed and returned to the sofa. Quickly he joined her with two Eskimo Pies. "You know me too well," she said, eagerly accepting his chosen fare.

"I decided to play it safe," he readily admitted. "You can never go wrong with chocolate."

"Oh yeah," she agreed, as she broke off a piece of the chocolate coating.

He, too, peeled off the wrapper and savored a big bite.

"How's the home team doing?" she asked. "I have to admit that I haven't been paying much attention."

"I'm shocked."

"I knew you would be." She smiled back.

"So far it's been a pitcher's duel. But we're up a run."

"You're favorite kind of game, I bet."

"Yeah," he acknowledged. "I know most people prefer watching a slugfest."

"But not you," she said with a twinkle in her eyes. "You're more cerebral and prefer brains to brawn."

"I think somebody has been holding out on me," he teased.

She shrugged. "It only makes sense considering you are a former pitcher along with a gentleman and a scholar."

He raised an eyebrow as he took another bite.

"And," she admitted, "Junior's been teaching me."

He smiled. "You were good today."

"I brought the heat?"

"With style. I am surprised that this happened to be in Boston. Was it on Bridges' schedule?"

She shook her head.

"So how?" he questioned. He took the last bite of his ice cream and put the stick down on the table.

"I chose it," she said matter of fact.

"Why?" Her revelation turned his mild curiosity into real shock. "Every team must have… I would have thought Baltimore or D.C."

She shrugged. "I just knew it had to be Boston. Don't you see? Even then I must have known that…." Her thought went unfinished as she found him staring at her throat. She'd unknowingly opened a button on her shirt and had brought a hand up to her diamond and pearl necklace. "It's exquisite, isn't it?" she suggested.

Without taking his eyes off it, he nodded.

"Someone so very special gave it to me a lifetime ago—when I was young and foolish. I loved it then, and I treasure it so much more now."

He raised his eyes to hers.

"Thank you," she told him softly, a couple of tears in her eyes. "Forgive me for not seeing?"

He removed her half eaten ice cream from her hand and slipped it into an empty water glass that was on the table. "Come here," he told her hoarsely, his arms opening to her.

Instantly she accepted his offered embrace.

He gathered her up and held her close. "I'm sorry, too," he whispered, his lips pressed to her forehead. "So very sorry."

For a long minute neither of them spoke. Their emotions were simply too raw for words. Eventually he asked, "How long have you known? About the necklace I mean."

She raised her head to meet his searching gaze. But she made no attempt to move from his embrace, and he undertook no effort to release her. "The night of the State of the Union."

Involuntarily he took in a ragged breath. He remembered that night all too well.

"Hiring Cooper," she explained, "inevitably got me thinking about you and me, and about why we ended. I still mistakenly believed that you stopped loving me and had simply walked away. Mom was in town for the speech and that night we started talking. She, of course, understood what I never had—that my assumptions were wrong." She took a breath and then continued, "I had a lot of unresolved bitterness, and so many doubts and questions. She decided it was time for me to know the truth about the necklace and about your note. I know you never wanted me to know…. You're not angry, are you?"

He shook his head. "No," he told her unequivocally.

"Why didn't you just give it to me? Why the pretext?"

He sighed. "Because at the time I was operating under the belief that you had chosen Stanton. It never could have been worn by anybody else. It was made for you. I thought about destroying it… I even tried. But in the end, I couldn't. So I sent it to Kate."

"Why did it have to be a secret?" she pressed. "If I'd known, it could have changed everything."

"Because I was too proud to beg. I wanted you to come to me—wanted you to listen to me—of your own free will, and because you didn't want a future where we weren't together."

Mac studied him close. What was revealed in his eyes brought her up short. Finally she truly understood what she hadn't before. He felt trapped between the past and the present, between the two women he'd loved, and his loyalty to each of them. It was tearing him up. She had no idea how to move beyond this point, except to take his mother's advice. But now was not the time, nor the place. Instead all she could do was try and remove the responsibility for their past choices to her own shoulders, which is where it rightfully belonged.

She pulled away slightly and sat up. Still looking into his face, she told him, "You were so much wiser and better than I was back then. You still are. You made a life for yourself, loved fiercely, and created and raised two incredible children." Tenderly she ran her hand through the hair above his ear and traced a finger along the line of his jaw. "The past, good and bad, is the past. But I am so grateful that Junior unknowingly walked into my office, and that you—all of you—are back in my life."

"I'm glad, too," he told her with a similar caress to her cheek with the back of his hand.

"And I love my necklace," she added with a mischievous smile.

"Come on you two," Elizabeth interrupted, peeking her head in the door. "It's time for the seventh-inning stretch and 'Take Me Out to the Ballgame.'"

"We can't miss that, Madam President," he told her with a smile, as he brushed away the last stray tear. "Not if you expect to carry New England in November."


	28. The Promise of Joy

**28. The Promise of Joy**

**Monday, April 4, 2016**

"Thank you," Mac told the group she'd asked her National Security Advisor to assemble on Africa. "I know all of you worked around the clock this weekend, and I do appreciate your efforts." She took off her reading glasses and surveyed the table. "Unfortunately, it's not good enough. There are too many lives at stake—too many children who deserve a chance. I need more information, and more options. This Administration is not going to stand idly by while people are slaughtered, and while children starve, or are made orphans because of violence and disease. I won't support or propagate the failed policies of the past. I want answers, ladies and gentleman… and I want them soon."

Without another word, she left the Roosevelt Room and walked across the narrow hallway to her office. She walked out onto the patio to get some air. They'd been meeting since seven that morning without a break. Hoping to clear her head to face the rest of the day's varied schedule of meetings and events, she breathed deeply.

"Ma'am?"

Reluctantly she turned to face her Chief of Staff. "What is it, Jim?" she asked with a weary sigh.

"I thought you would want to know. We found that book you requested," he informed her. "They're having it delivered right now."

"Thank you," she told him almost breathlessly as adrenaline began pumping through her veins. She looked at her watch. "What time is President Kaczmarek arriving?"

"Two."

"And I'm supposed to have lunch with Carl?" she asked as they walked back inside.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Please call him and reschedule. Apologize for me and tell him I'll explain later."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'll have lunch in my study." She grabbed a pen and legal pad from her desk. "Please bring the book into me the moment it arrives."

"Yes, ma'am."

She walked towards the door to her study. "Oh," she turned around, "could you have someone bring me a cardboard box?"

"How big?" he asked without changing his expression.

"About 12 by 12," she said, gesturing with her hands. "I'll need packing peanuts, too."

"Yes, ma'am."

XXXXXXXXXX

Mac sat down on the sofa in her study with pen and pad, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. All of the political speeches she'd ever made, all of the letters and papers she'd ever penned, paled in comparison to what she was about to do. Seeking inspiration, she let her mind slip into the distant past.

_November 20, 1994_

"_Can you believe how well they got along?" She commented to Rod on the drive back to New Haven on Sunday night. What had begun as a weekend at home for each of them, had somehow turned into a weekend full of family for both of them. He'd spent time in Bridgeport with her parents, and she'd hung out in Greenwich with his clan. And all of them—Allen's and Calloway's—had come together for the first time that afternoon. The families had enjoyed each other and it had been decided that they would gather again for Thanksgiving later in the week._

"_You can't have been surprised?" he asked in return. "Not really."_

"_You're right," she agreed as they stopped at a traffic light._

"_Mackenzie?"_

_His voice was unusually husky and she felt his penetrating eyes bearing into her. She turned towards him._

"_You do realize things have changed between us. I didn't intend… but we can't go back."_

"_I know," she told him softly, not shying away from his gaze. A week earlier she'd asked to take things slow between them. Because of her prior experience with David, she'd been panicking over how fast their relationship had progressed, and how deeply she cared about him. He'd conceded but had reminded her, "__Nothing stays the same, Mackenzie–not for long. We either move forward together or we retreat backwards apart." The weekend—beginning with their day together on the boat and ending with the introduction of their families—had propelled them forward, quicker and farther than she ever could have dreamed._

_They drove to his place in companionable silence, made dinner together, and then settled in front of the fire to talk. She questioned him about his family's business and for the first time learned about the extent of the Calloway financial holdings, and his immense personal wealth. They discussed their hopes and ambitions. And they talked about marriage and family._

"_You make it sound so simple," she observed._

"_What?"_

"_Us. Marriage. Children."_

"_It's not. We'll have to work at it," he replied, taking her hand. "It's worth it to me. I know how I feel about us. We're good together. With you is where I want to be."_

"_Me, too." She gave his hand a squeeze before letting go. "But how do we balance it all? Fulfill our individual dreams while still meeting each other's needs and those of our children? And do it without losing either each other or ourselves in the process?"_

_He smiled before admitting, "I don't know. But I'm willing to give us everything I have. We've got some great examples in our parents. However, if you're looking for certainties and guarantees, I don't have any. Except my willingness to play the game with you, and my belief that we can be happier together than we could ever be apart."_

_His confidence continued to amaze her._ _Where did he find the strength, the courage… the faith?_ "_How do you do it?" she asked. _

"_Do what?"_

"_You must have questions—about me, about us. But you ignore them. How do you do it? How do you drive away the doubts and fears? How do you focus only on the positive and what is possible instead of probable?"_

_He answered by telling her about a book by Allen Drury. He explained that in its final passages, the fictional President of the United States compares the struggle for peace with the promise of joy. With great conviction, he shared with her, "The President postulates that the only thing any decent human experiment—which includes relationships in my opinion—can hold out, is the promise of joy. Because_ _when it comes to joy (or peace, or relationships), there are no easy certainties, painless assurances, or comfortable guarantees. There is only the promise. A promise that demands constant work, endurance and hope; and one that may be here today, gone tomorrow, and back again the next day. But it's a promise worth seeking because without the attempt—without the trying—what's left?"_

"Madam President?"

She glanced up to find Laura looking at her with a concerned brow.

"I did knock first, ma'am."

She smiled. "My fault. I was lost in thought. What do you need?"

"I have that item for you as well as the book and cardboard box you requested from Mr. Gardner."

"Thank you. You can leave them on the desk," she said. "Did I give you enough money?"

"Yes, ma'am."

After she left, Mac walked over to her desk. She examined the book. It was exactly what she hoped it would be: A first edition in vintage condition. She turned to the final page and what she read made her pulse quicken. It was the first time she'd read it. They'd broken up the next day and everything changed. What she wouldn't give to go back to that night and undo her foolish mistakes! But maybe—just maybe—if his mother was right, they could start anew. Ironically, it was now his confidence that had been shaken, while she had never been more certain of anything in her life. Even more ironic was the fact that she was now the President of the United States. She was living his dream. How did it all get turned so completely upside down? She sighed. He was the strongest person she'd ever known, and she hurt physically to know that she was at least partially to blame for his shattered faith.

He was in New Orleans with the twins to watch Duke play in tonight's championship game. They'd watched the semi-final game with Cooper in her Air Force One cabin returning from Boston. She couldn't recall ever laughing harder than when Junior had impersonated each of them and several others during half time. When Duke won, she insisted that Cooper go with him yesterday.

She smiled as she remembered their brief phone conversation last night. They were having a good time and he was anxious and excited about tonight's game. She teased him about being an overprotective father and about his insistence in meeting Jamison and his parents. But he took it all in good humor, she thought as she put down the book. In so many ways he reminded her of her own father.

She pulled out the more personal item from the little bag and her smile widened. She'd first seen one on Laura's desk a week or so ago and couldn't believe that such an item existed. She'd instantly fallen in love with the little stuffed bear. Laura had bought it for her little girl to sleep with on nights she had to work late. Written across the little navy shirt was the perfect message for him, too: "_Somebody at the White House Loves Me._" This morning, without offering any explanation, she'd asked Laura to get one for her from the Airlift Operations office in the EEOB. With any luck, her package would be waiting for him when he arrived home tomorrow evening. But first, she had to finish the accompanying message. She sighed again, only deeper. It felt like the most important step she'd taken in her life.

She sat back down and began to write. She was surprised at how easy it came. Once she was satisfied, she took a piece of White House stationary from her desk and wrote the final draft:

_April 4, 2016_

_Roderic,_

_We never did get to read this book together. Nothing would make me happier than to do so now. I'm not looking for easy certainties or comfortable guarantees. I'm ready and willing to work and hope. All I want is that promise of joy… with you._

_Mackenzie_

_P.S. There's something else in the box with a message from my heart to yours. A message I should have shouted from the rooftop those many years ago, and every day since. A message that is deep and true…. One I give only to you. _

_P.S.S. "__Millions and millions of years would still not give me half enough time to describe that tiny instant of all eternity when you put your arms around me and I put my arms around you." Jacques Prévert_

When she was finished she read it aloud and sighed yet again. She liked it and didn't think she could do any better. But she was terrified. Her future was at stake. Her heart was on the line. Even more frightening was the probability that their relationship—their friendship--was hanging in the balance. She couldn't bear the thought that she could again lose him from her life.

She was tempted to rip up the note and put the bear and book high on a shelf in her closet. But that would be the second biggest mistake of her life. If she had learned anything from her earlier folly it was this: It's better to live with disappointment than regret. She carefully laid the bear at the bottom of the cardboard box and covered it with a thick layer of packing peanuts. Then she stuck her note in between the final two pages of the book and gently laid it on top of the bear. Before she could change her mind she took the box to Laura with instructions it be shipped overnight to his home in Atlanta. After that, she ate lunch and went back to work, knowing that this would likely be the longest twenty-four hours of her life.

**Author's Note:** I've added an icon of the little bear on my profile in case anyone is interested. And yes... it actually came from the Airlift Operations office at the Eisenhower Executive Office Building (EEOB), which is the huge building west of the White House where a majority of president's staff have offices.


	29. M T Everest

**29. M.T. Everest **

**Tuesday, April 12, 2016**

"I'm going to have lunch upstairs," Mac told Cooper as she walked into the little anteroom between the Oval Office and Cabinet Room. "There are a few personal things I need to do before we leave this afternoon."

_Uh oh! This is bad_, he mumbled. She'd been in a progressively foul mood all week. She hadn't said much, but he suspected it had something to do with his father. So far he'd managed to stay out of her way. Obviously that was about to change. "Umm… ma'am," he said hesitantly before she walked outside, "You have a lunch meeting with a Mr. M.T. Everest in the Library."

She glared at him. "Is this some kind of joke? Because if it is…."

"No, ma'am," he said quickly. "It's on the schedule." He handed her a piece of paper.

"We were leaving this afternoon free," she complained before looking at the paper and discovering that Mr. Everest was, in fact, on the schedule. "Who is this guy? How did he get on the calendar? I didn't put him there and I didn't authorize anyone else to put him there. I've never heard even heard of the man!"

As her voice got louder and increasingly caustic, Cooper cringed. "I don't know anything else but I believe Mr. Gardner added him late yesterday," he said tentatively when she finished.

"He what?"

"Uh… yes, ma'am," he cringed again.

"Would you ask Mr. Gardner to join me? I'd like a word with him," she scowled before turning and walking briskly back into her office, slamming the door behind her.

She forced herself to breathe deeply. She felt restless and unsettled, like a caged animal. Nothing had gone right all week and everyone seemed to be doing his or her best to piss her off. Not to mention it had been seven days since her package had been delivered and she hadn't heard a single word from him. Not a single word in seven days—an entire week. In fact, they hadn't spoken since Sunday night—nine days ago. Cooper hadn't even talked to him, but had received a message saying he'd be out of town for a number of days and to call his grandparents if he needed anything. What the hell was he thinking? Being out of touch, and not just from her but the twins. That wasn't like him. Wasn't like him at all. Had his mother been wrong? Had she driven him away? She'd put her heart on the line. Didn't she at least deserve the courtesy of some token acknowledgement? Was their relationship not worth even that much to him?

"You wanted to see me, ma'am?" Jim asked, casually walking into the office.

She faced him. "Would you care to tell me about this stranger I'm supposed to be having lunch with when we agreed to leave a few hours free before wheels up this afternoon?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied calmly. "Mr. Everest is…."

"The man's name is seriously M.T. Everest?" she interrupted with derision.

"That's what I understand," he answered without a change in demeanor. "He passed the background check."

"Unbelievable! What? Did his parents hate him or something?" she muttered to her humorless chief of staff. Then more loudly she asked, "And what is so special about him that he warrants a private lunch with the President of the United States?"

"He's potentially a very big Southern donor. Could prove very helpful to the campaign. But time is of the essence."

"Are you kidding me? A Southern donor?" She could see herself spending precious minutes with a man who was the perfect combination of Colonel Sanders and T. Boone Pickens, and whose ego was twice the size of Texas. "_Come on in and have a seat, little lady,"_ she imagined him saying in greeting. "You honestly have me giving up my only free time before we leave for a donor?"

"He's something special and unique."

"Nobody is that special," she assured him, "particularly not some donor. And did you forget I can't have lunch with him here?" she asked rhetorically. "It's not ethical."

"It is in the Residence. That's why you are meeting in the Library. I felt it was important or I wouldn't have…."

She rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. "Fine. But this guy better be worth it. Tell Cooper I want to be interrupted in exactly thirty minutes, and not a second later. Actually make it twenty minutes. I don't care who he is! I'm not getting stuck with this mountain all afternoon!"

She stormed out of the office, sarcastically muttering to herself as she walked along the colonnade inside to the Library, "This is just great! He's probably off sunning himself on some exotic beach without a care in the world, while I'm left sleeping with a stuffed bear and having lunch with a man whose only apparent virtues are that he's rich and his parents had a sick sense of humor when naming him."

XXXXXXXXXX

Mac paused outside the Library door. She took a deep breath, plastered a practiced smile on her face, and then went inside. The vase of fresh seasonal flowers, which usually sat on the small, round table in the center of the room, had been removed, and the table had been intimately set for two. However, there was no Mr. Everest. She couldn't believe that the man had the gall to take her only free time and then make her wait. Nobody made her wait—ever. It was a huge faux pas. She turned to Jessica Jenkins, who was standing post in the room along with a new agent whose name she couldn't recall. "Is my lunch date running late?" she asked in a tone that was good-humored on the surface but which really signaled, "_heads are going to roll for this indiscretion_."

"No, ma'am," Jessica replied calmly. "He stepped into the bathroom." The men's restroom for the State floors of the Residence was located in the Library, while the women's restroom was in the Vermeil Room.

She raised an unamused eyebrow at her agent before walking over and pretending to study one of the bookshelves, trying very hard not to be completely pissed off. Nonetheless she couldn't help staring at the second hand on her watch while praying Cooper would interrupt her at any minute with a legitimate crises of any kind. Anything she could use to get out from under this meeting. She hated fundraising under the best of circumstances, and this did not come close to that ideal.

When finally she heard the bathroom door open, she forced yet another polite smile on her face and turned to greet her visitor. However, as her sharp intake of breath attested, she was wholly unprepared for him, standing ten feet away. She blinked and swallowed, but she was unable to move. Her unsteady legs were anchored to the carpet. She tried to speak, but couldn't get her brain and mouth to work in harmony. So she swallowed again.

The room faded away and her respiration ceased as she drunk him in. He was resplendent in a light blue dress shirt, expensive tie and navy pin striped trousers. She blinked again as her heart began to race. Was it the lighting? Making her see what she'd despaired ever seeing again in his reflective eyes? But as she continued to stare, hope began to blossom deep within her soul. He had the sweetest—most hopeful—smile on his face, and high in one arm, its title clearly visible, was _The Promise of Joy_.

She began to tremble as an avalanche of emotions washed over her. In an instant she was swept up in his arms, their foreheads pressed tightly together. Her eyes closed, and a soft, helpless sound escaped her throat as the week's frustrations vanished. She needed no words to understand the significance of this simple gesture. That long ago magic, which had symbolized so much between them, immediately overwhelmed her. Nonetheless, she held her breath in anticipation.

"I love you," he whispered clearly. "I'm hoping that somebody at the White House loves me, too. And that she still believes in second chances."

Every night for weeks she'd gone to sleep daydreaming about just such a declaration. Had she, in fact, heard him correctly? Or had she imagined the entire thing? Needing to be certain, she leaned away and searched his face. His handsome lips twitched in amusement and his eyes brimmed with the quiet confidence she'd so foolishly taken for granted in their past.

"I love you," he said again, gently wiping away the tears she was powerless to prevent. "If you have no objection, I'd like to take you up on that offer."

"What offer?" she asked breathlessly.

"This one," he replied, taking her face in his hands and kissing her with a passion and hunger that was like nothing she had ever known—not even with him.

Her skin tingled all over at the impact of his mouth and tongue on, in, and around her own—probing, teasing… tasting. She clung to him like a drowning woman to her savior. _This can't be happening_, she told herself as he placed feather light kisses on her eyelids, her cheekbones, and finally that sensitive spot on her neck only he had known. The exquisite intimacy in this rediscovery awakened long ago feelings and triggered a new depth of awareness that made her quiver. "Are you real, Mr. Everest? Or am I dreaming?" she moaned against his throat.

He laughingly pulled away and smiled down into her face. Her voice was breathy, her eyes like pools of deep, rich chocolate flecked with a gleam of gold. "You're not dreaming, Mohammad. The mountain has come to you—if you still want him."

His voice was a caress, with a hint of self-doubt that moved her deeply. "Oh, I've always wanted him," she assured him. Sliding her hand behind his neck, she drew him to her, kissing him powerfully. She thrilled when his mouth softened and his lips parted in an invitation to conquer as she had been conquered.

He gathered her closer, molding her body to his, even as he allowed her to continue to lead and direct. It had been so long since he'd experienced these sensations; and nobody had ever fit him the way she did. He became lost, all awareness of the past and the future displaced by a gloriously rich and sensual present. When at last their breath was spent, they held each other fiercely, possessively until she abruptly ended their embrace. "What is it?" he asked with a worried brow.

"We're not…." Her voice trailed off as she looked around the room. She quickly realized that her panic was in vain. They were very much alone. Jessica and her partner had discreetly disappeared. "Have you staged a coup with my protective detail?" she asked mischievously.

He grinned. "If I had, do you think I would tell you about it?" He intertwined their hands and pulled her back into the circle of his arms. Nuzzling her neck and the base of her ear, he whispered, "Would you really rather we had company?"

She lifted his head and cupped his face with her hands. "You're all the company I need—all the company I'll ever need. You… and the twins."

"Thank you for that," he told her with a sigh and a warm gaze followed by a brief, firm kiss. He slipped her navy suit jacket off her shoulders, led her over to one of the antique sofas and settled her on his lap.

"Are you sure this isn't a dream?" she asked him yet again as she wrapped her arms around his neck and ran her fingers through his hair.

"Yes," he said hoarsely.

"You truly love me?" She looked deep into his eyes.

"Yes," he nodded, his voice even huskier.

She sighed. "I was afraid I'd never get a second chance at us, and more terrified that I'd screwed up our friendship by sending you the book and bear."

He shook his head. "I'd forgotten all about the book. Hadn't looked at in more than twenty-one years."

"You hadn't?" she questioned. "But you loved it. It was such a powerful influence on you."

"I threw my copy into the fireplace in anger on the day we broke up. It was the first and only time I've defaced a book. But I didn't think I'd ever be able to look at it again—and I haven't… until now."

She nodded thoughtfully, filled with remorse.

"I was shocked that you remembered it," he added inquisitively.

She shrugged. "I hadn't thought about it in years either," she admitted. "But something your mother said on Saturday reminded me. I know it's different for you. But I'm sorrier than you'll ever know about that night… sorry for doubting you. My only excuse is that I doubted myself more."

"Honey, it's over," he told her, gently caressing her cheek. "We're together now. Isn't that what counts?"

"Together," she repeated with an intimate smile. "I love the way that sounds."

"I take it my mother was playing matchmaker," he playfully suggested.

"A little," she conceded. "But only after she was certain of my feelings for you. She told me I needed to make the first move and tell you how I feel."

"You still can't say the words to my face?" he teased.

Even as she smiled, she felt her face redden. "I absolutely can," she insisted. And with greater feeling than she'd ever expressed anything in her life she told him, "I love you, Roderic Gabriel Calloway. You are my heart—my soul." When he kissed her. It was the sweetest, most tender touch. "I love you," she told him again as she kissed him in return. Kissed him long and with a depth of passion and emotion she wasn't aware she possessed. She'd never felt so free—so empowered. Who knew that three little words said aloud could be so liberating!

XXXXXXXXXX

So engrossed were they in each other that they failed to grasp they were no longer alone. "Dad!" a surprised Cooper exclaimed loudly from a few feet inside the room.

Instantly Mac pulled away and tried to extricate herself from his lap. However, the strong hands she loved so well held her firmly in place.

"Hey," he said, completely unfazed and unembarrassed by his son's presence.

"M.T. Everest?" Cooper taunted, walking towards them. "Isn't that corny even for you, Dad?"

Mac laughed before again trying to find herself a new seat. Again it was an act of futility.

"There's more to it," he protested good-naturedly, thinking about to his first introduction to Mackenzie. "But frankly, Junior, it's none of your business."

Cooper sat in an adjacent chair and with a huge smirk told them, "So I take it the friendship thing is off? Didn't work out?"

"To the contrary," his father answered with an identical smirk. "I'd say it worked out much better than planned," he added, looking into Mackenzie's face and tucking her hair behind her ear.

She felt herself begin to flush at the blatant display of affection in front of Cooper. She was also worried. Turning to him, she asked with earnest concern, "Are you okay with this?"

"Do I have to give up my job?" Cooper questioned in return with equal anxiety.

"Absolutely not," she assured him as relief came.

"Then yeah," he said with a shrug. With a hint of mischief in his blue eyes he added, "Especially if it will put you in a better mood. People are wetting their pants all over the place; and nobody wants to get on that plane with you today."

Rod laughed. "Honey, I'm afraid it's not just our relationship that has changed."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," she told both of them with smiling eyes.

"Son, don't you have work to do?"

"Yes, sir," Cooper replied. "Like hanging a 'Do not disturb' sign outside the door."

Again Rod laughed while Mac hid her face against his neck and shoulder.

Before Cooper opened the door to leave, however, he turned back to his father. "I'm glad you're home, Dad. You kind of freaked us out with the whole disappearance thing."

"I had some things to work out. But everything's fine. Nothing for you to worry about, okay?"

"Yes, sir," Cooper nodded.

XXXXXXXXXX

After Cooper left, Mac removed herself from his lap and sat next to him. "We need to talk," she said flatly.

He knew that look—that tone. "This can't be good. Are we going to have our first fight?" he commented, trying to lighten the new tension between them.

She ignored his attempt and plowed ahead. "The twins weren't the only one freaking out, you know. How could you do that to them? And to me?"

"Mackenzie," he sighed, running his hand through his hair. "I was only gone a few days."

"It was a week, Rod. A whole week after receiving the book and bear without a single word from you. Seven days. You had to know it wasn't easy for me to make that move. How could you just leave me hanging like that?" She was still very much on the attack. However, there was desperation in her voice that made her cringe internally.

He shrugged. "I didn't actually see them until a few days ago. But even if I had, it wouldn't have changed anything—not then," he replied somewhat sheepishly though his overall demeanor was impenitent.

"Wouldn't have changed things?" she repeated incredulously, her voice rising as she spoke.

"I wasn't ready a week ago. I won't apologize for that—ever. Not to you or anyone."

She was stunned when before she could respond, he walked away and went and stood by the fireplace, one arm resting on the mantle. Though his back was towards her, through the mirror she could see a weary, wounded look in his eyes, which was seemingly at odds with the quiet conviction she had heard in his voice and witnessed on his face an instant ago. It took the wind out of her sails of pride and resentment. She went and reached out to him, draping an arm around his waist.

He took her other hand and brought it to his lips. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you. It's just…." he said, his voice trailing off.

"Where did you go?" she prodded gently, stroking his taut chest.

"Does it matter? I just needed time away."

"I guess not… But it doesn't seem to have been very restful," she noted with a hint of a wry smile. He'd lost weight and was obviously exhausted.

A similar half-smile creased his lips. "I've had better days."

He didn't offer more. Obviously he wasn't ready to talk about what had happened last week. Considering her past walls and what she'd kept from him, she had no right to cast stones, or even to press him. "Seems like you could use a hug."

"A great big one," he admitted, his smile becoming genuine.

She slid her arms around his back, pressed her body fully against his, and held him tight like he had done on so many occasions for her. As she held him she rediscovered what true intimacy between a man and a woman is all about: A willingness both to lead and to follow, to hold and be held, to support and be supported… to understand and be understood. While lovemaking could enhance such intimacy, it could never replace it. "Feeling better?" she asked after a time.

"Much better," he told her. "But can I have a kiss, too?"

She laughed softly before leaning up and giving him everything he could hope for in a kiss. When again they were out of breath, she asked, "How about some lunch, Mr. Everest? I assume the table setting is more than simply a prop in your charade of deception?"

"Deception?" he said in playful protest. "Madam President, this is a seduction."

"It's about time, Your Honor. It's about time!"

He laughed and picked up the phone, dialing an extension from memory. "We're ready…. Thanks, Paul."

"You've taken over my kitchen, too?" she teased as he put down the receiver.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," he told her. "And it's been charged to Cooper's account."

"Rod, you didn't…" she began to protest with hands on her hips.

"I absolutely did," he insisted. Then with a much softer tone, he cajoled, "Come sit down." He held her chair and then scooted his own so that his leg brushed against hers.

"How and when did you arrange this?" she asked.

"I have ways," he answered.

"I know you didn't talk to Cooper so I assume you used Jim?"

"Maybe."

"You're not going to tell me?"

He shook his head. Taking her hand and caressing the inside of her wrist with his thumb, he told her, "We may have to date mostly at your house and deal with the constraints of your office, but don't think for one minute that I'm going to let you control or dictate everything, or that I'm going to give up my prerogative to spoil and surprise you."

"Always a gentleman," she said warmly while gazing into his face and tracing his jaw line with the back of her hand.

Almost immediately a touch turned into a kiss, then more touching, and more kissing. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" he whispered, staring into her big brown eyes, their faces only inches apart.

"Only with you," she replied. "You make me feel beautiful… and you always have. Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

"I love _you_," he answered quietly with great emotion as he leaned in for another kiss.

"Just remember who said it first," she teased, rubbing her nose against his in an Eskimo kiss.

"This time, honey," he clarified with a smile, tapping her nose with his index finger. "Only this time. Overall I've got you beat by more than twenty-one years."

"You're not going to hold that against me, are you?"

"Never," he assured her with a small shake of his head.

"I still can't believe you're here," she said with a sigh while fingering his tie. "I've wanted this for so long—dreamed about it for so long."

He tenderly stroked her cheekbone. "I'm so sorry I hurt you. It's the last thing I…."

"Shush," she told him pressing a finger against his lips. "I know. I also know there's a lot about last week that you aren't telling me."

He sighed. "Mackenzie, I…"

Again she put her finger to his lips. "Roderic," she told him sincerely, "I understand. When you're ready to share, I'll be here to listen. Besides today more than makes up for anything else. You make me so happy."

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. Reluctantly they put a respectable distance between themselves as their lunch was served. However, they could not hide their smiles or the intimate looks that passed between them.

When again they were alone Mac surveyed the table and in astonishment said, "Pizza, salad, cheesecake? This is just like our first dinner together."

He nodded. "Except today we're eating gourmet, and instead of paper plates we're using the Lincoln china."

She laughed.

He reached for her hand. "I wanted today to symbolize a new beginning for us."

She smiled. "Thank you."

"Honey, I really didn't do much. But I've got to tell you this smells really good…. And I'm starved."

"It does smell wonderful," she agreed. With a gently sardonic tone, she added, "Something tells me that neither of us had much of an appetite this past week."

He chuckled. "Something tells me that's not going to be a problem in the future. One slice or two?" he asked. "The crust is whole wheat and it's vegetarian."

"Oh, the joys of middle age," she replied, handing over her plate. "But I'll take two."

While eating they discussed her trip to Asia—how long she and Cooper would be gone, and what she hoped to accomplish. He told her about New Orleans—about the excitement of Duke winning another national championship, and about meeting Jamison and his parents. They reveled in the bump in the polls she'd received after throwing from the mound in Boston, and how Templeton and Governor Stapleton, the Democratic front-runner, had been scrambling all week to avoid looking like "wimps" in comparison.

Putting down her fork, she said, "That tasted so good." She looked at her watch.

"You've probably got tons to do before wheels up," he told her. "I'll get out of your way."

She shook her head. "I've got an hour. And the only things I need to do are to change my clothes and grab a couple of personal items, which will take five minutes. Want to go upstairs for some more cuddling and kissing?"

He nodded.

"Did you read Drury's book again?" she asked as he held her chair.

"A lot of it."

She picked the book up from an end table. "Do you mind if I take it with me?"

"Of course, not. There's a good summary of the other books in the beginning that you'll want to read," he said, closing the distance between them. Putting his hands on her waist, he told her, "You couldn't have given me anything more perfect, or more timely."

"I'm glad." With a mischievous smile, she added, "But Mr. Everest, I'm counting on a very generous campaign contribution from you. After all, you did get a private lunch with the President of the United States."

He threw his head back and laughed. "As much as the law allows, Madam President."

She threw her arms around his neck. "I love you, Roderic," she told him as he leaned down for one more kiss of promise.


	30. Tempt Not a Desperate Man

**30-Tempt Not a Desperate Man**

**Thursday, April 21, 2016**

Mac smiled as the White House came into view. The sight of it—particularly at night—thrilled her still. _It's good to be home_, she said to herself with a sigh. It had been an incredibly rewarding, yet interminably long nine days. At the same time she'd constantly had to check herself for inappropriate smiles at inopportune moments. On some level she continued to believe it was all just a glorious dream—that he'd come to her… that he loved her. She could hardly wait for the weekend to start. He would be here early tomorrow evening.

They'd had some time to talk while she'd been gone, but not nearly enough. Mostly though, she missed him physically—his varied smiles, his always-expressive eyes, and his touch: The tender way he would stroke her face, or tuck a piece of renegade hair behind her ear. The fervent hunger in his kisses, and the warmth and quiet strength in his embrace.

As the VH-71 touched down on the South Lawn, she unbuckled her safety belt and looked at Cooper, who was passed out in sleep, his mouth wide open. She smiled. She owed him so much. She couldn't love him more if he were her own flesh and blood. She felt the same way about Rebecca, and hoped it would prove as easy with her as it had been from the start with him. As a young Marine in full dress uniform opened the door, she reached out and touched him on the leg. "We're home," she said affectionately.

He opened his eyes and yawned. "Sorry, ma'am," he told her with a yawn.

"Come on, Junior," she said, gesturing towards the open door. "Let's have the kitchen whip us up some dinner, then I'll have someone take you home."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied with a cheeky grin.

Mac smiled back, said goodnight to her other aides, and thanked her pilots before the two of them walked across the center of the lawn and into the little vestibule which led into the Diplomatic Reception Room.

"Hail! The conquering heroine," a familiar voice announced affectionately from against the wall.

Mac stopped in surprise. "Hey," she said breathlessly. Even in jeans and an untucked oxford shirt, he was the most striking man she'd ever seen. "I thought you couldn't get away until tomorrow."

"It turns out I couldn't stay away. Too excited to see both of you." Rod gave Cooper a hug and her a kiss. "You taste good," he whispered against her ear afterward and then put an arm around her shoulders. "Happy to see me?" he asked with a little squeeze.

"Another dream come true," she responded with a sigh, leaning into him as they walked into the Diplomatic Reception Room followed by Cooper.

"I bet the two of you are exhausted," Rod commented.

"I'm fine," she told him. "But your son has about had it."

"It's not my fault that Tokyo's half a world away," Cooper protested. "Or that it was too loud to sleep on the plane."

"I did offer to share my cabin," she pointed out.

He shrugged. "Yeah, but…."

"You would have missed the party?" she suggested.

Rod laughed.

"And it's not cool to be seen as hanging out with the boss?" Mac continued to tease him as they walked across the hall. However, she knew there was truth in her words.

"I'm going to take enough crap when everyone figures out that the friendship thing between you was a hoax," he threw back. "How long do you plan on trying to keep this thing secret anyway?" he asked as they stepped into the elevator.

Rod and Mac looked at one another. "We haven't had a chance to talk about that yet," his father replied. "So until we do…."

"I know," Cooper interrupted. "Trust me. I won't say a word. Then I'll have to deal with the paparazzi, press, and a million questions everywhere I go."

"That worries you?" Mac asked him with quiet concern and a penetrating look.

"Nah," he shrugged. "I can handle it. I know it can't be avoided, but I'm not stupid. I'm not looking forward to it."

"I'm sorry," she told him.

"It's not your fault," Rod assured her, taking her hand. "It just is. All we can do is put a smile on our faces and deal with it, right Cooper?"

"Yes, sir," he agreed.

"Good evening, Madam President," Usher Waverly said in greeting when the elevator opened on the second floor. "Did you have a good trip?"

Mac nodded. "But it's even better to be home. I think we'll eat off trays in my sitting room. Club sandwich, Cooper?" she asked.

"Sounds good."

"Honey?" she asked as they walked into the West Sitting Hall.

"Something light," Rod told her.

"Grilled chicken salad with bread for Judge Calloway and me."

"Very good, ma'am," Mr. Waverly replied. "Anything besides water to drink, ma'am?"

"You know, I think I'd love a big glass of chocolate milk. Cooper?"

"Chocolate milk for me, too," he said.

"I'm fine with water," Rod told him. "Thank you, Mr. Waverly."

The three of them walked into the room located between the Yellow Room and Mac's bedroom. Throughout much of the Residence's history—up through the Kennedy Administration, the room had been used as the First Lady's bedroom. Often when alone she would eat her dinner, read, and watch the news in here. It was a comfortable room, and it, too, had a door out to the Truman Balcony and an incredible view of the Washington Monument and Jefferson Memorial.

As they ate, they talked about baseball, the trip, and the weekend plans. Elizabeth, Sydney, John and their children would be flying in tomorrow afternoon. Mac also questioned Cooper about his seminar on the presidency and what she should expect when she visited his class next week. His professor had jokingly threatened that his "A" grade was contingent upon his arranging for her to speak with the class.

"Would it be okay if I take off?" Cooper asked them with a yawn after they'd finished eating. "I'm beat."

"Are you staying with me?" Rod asked.

Cooper nodded. "It's so much closer. But I don't think I have a clean shirt and tie."

"I've got both you can wear. We're in the usual suite." Rod removed a key card from his pocket and handed it to him.

"Great. Thanks for dinner, boss," he said, standing.

"Sleep in tomorrow," she told him. "It's a very light day."

"Thanks," he replied with a smile. "Night, Dad."

"Night, son. I love you."

"Love you, too."

XXXXXXXXXX

"He's really terrific," Mac said, moving closer to Rod on the couch once Cooper left.

"Yeah, he is," he said as he cupped the back of her head, leaned in and began to kiss her.

She slipped her arms around his neck and he pulled her full up against him as he stretched out on the sofa. "So is his father," she whispered against his mouth. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Me, too," he replied, taking full possession of her luscious, wide mouth once more.

When they parted, she rolled off the sofa and told him, "Be right back. Just want to change into something more comfortable." She'd shed her suit jacket, but her blouse and trousers felt stiff and stale.

"Mackenzie," he groaned, "you know…"

She shut him up with a brief, firm kiss. As she walked into her adjacent bedroom, she told him, "I meant sweats… for the moment." His subsequent laughter was a reminder of how lucky she was to have him back in her life. She shed her clothes. However, she still felt grimy. She quickly showered, checked her makeup and ran a brush through her hair before changing into black running pants and a matching t-shirt. When she returned to the family room, he was engrossed in a baseball game. With an amused shake of the head, she sat down by him. "I should have known. Leave you alone for five minutes and inevitably you'll find a ballgame."

With a smile he turned the television off. "You're in luck. It's the Yankees and Mariners."

"Thank heavens!" she exclaimed, moving into his waiting arms. "Who can compete with the Sox?"

He chuckled. "She's a jealous mistress, no doubt." With a sigh, he tightened his hold on her. "I missed you."

She snuggled closer to him, drawing in that unique scent that always heightened her senses and made her feel utterly feminine. "I missed you, too… so much." For some minutes, they said nothing. It was enough to be in each other's arms. But she couldn't get Cooper's words out of her head, "_I know it can't be avoided, but I'm not stupid. I'm not looking forward to it_." She sat up and when he looked inquisitively at her, she said, "We have a lot to talk about."

"Yeah," he said soberly. "We do."

"Is Cooper really okay with us?"

"In general, yes."

"And Becca?" she asked with a hint of hesitation.

"I haven't really talked to her about it," he admitted sheepishly. "She's been so busy with the end of the semester and getting ready for tryouts for the under 21 national team. But I don't think she'll be surprised," he told her with a deep sigh, remembering their late night conversation over the Easter weekend.

"My job is a total nightmare for you, isn't it? Please be honest."

"Yes," he acknowledged.

"I don't have to run for re-election. I'm likely to lose anyway."

Running his fingers through her hair while caressing the side of her face, he asked, "Can you look me in the eye and tell me that's what you want? That you wouldn't regret walking away every day of your life?"

"It was never what I wanted," she insisted. "When Bridges asked me, well, you know, I certainly never…."

"Mackenzie…." He interrupted.

He spoke her name in that tone of voice that demanded complete honesty, even as his eyes penetrated her soul. "No," she finally conceded with a sigh.

He nodded while a hint of a smug, knowing smile fleetingly played on his lips. "You love your work, just like I do mine. You never have to apologize for that—not with me. I could never take that away from you. What's more, the country needs you."

"Thank you," she whispered, his ever-gracious praise filling her first with warmth, and then with dread. Reluctantly she asked, "So where does that leave us? Back to being impossible—just like you've always said?"

His mouth twitched. "Honey, I said a lot of things to keep myself from feeling again. For all the good it did me," he added with a self-deprecating smile.

She smiled, too. However, she longed to learn more about what had been going on in his formidable mind before he'd come back to her. "Is that what it was?" she questioned while rubbing the taut muscles of his thigh.

He lifted her outstretched hand and intertwined their fingers. "I think so. If you don't feel, you can't hurt. I'd felt too much, hurt too much. I was wrong. I don't want to live like that anymore. But Mac, I'm not ready for a public relationship. I know that's not what you want to hear. It's just the minute people find out about us, you know the scrutiny is going to be unprecedented. We become political and public pawns—victims of the prevailing tabloid mentality and the twenty-four hour news cycle. I don't want that for you, or my kids… or even my colleagues. Can you understand?"

"Of course, I can," she insisted. "How could I not? We're in this together."

"Thank you."

"Do your colleagues know about us?"

He nodded. "I spoke with each of them this past week. They had to know because even though we're not out in public, there will be cases where I'll need to recuse myself. I trust their discretion. They've been great about it, not a single complaint about taking on the extra work. They genuinely want me to be happy."

"You sound surprised?"

"I suppose I am a little," he shrugged.

"I'm not," she told him with a small shake of her head. "What if they hadn't been so accepting?" she worried aloud.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I haven't really thought about it. I just know I don't want to lose us again."

"Me, too," she said, feeling tremendous relief.

"I'm afraid you'll need to have some patience with me while I figure everything out."

She smiled. "Even if I didn't love you like I do, I'd owe you that," she said tenderly. "It's ironic, isn't it? That I'm the one who's now ahead."

"Not emotionally," he insisted. "I'm right here with you there. But life is so much more complicated now. There's so much to consider in trying to make it all work. I only want to do what's best for all of us."

"I know you do—so do I." She scooted back up against him and rested her head against his shoulder, his arm sliding around her back. "We'll figure it all out. I don't care how long it takes."

"I love you," he told her, kissing the top of her head.

She raised her head to meet his gaze. "I love you," she replied as once more their lips touched. "Do you know what that does to me?" she moaned as his mouth again found the spot beneath her ear that drove her crazy.

"I know what you do to me," he said huskily before returning his focus back to her full mouth. The passion between them was overwhelming. It would be so easy to lose control—to forget everyone and everything. "Maybe this isn't the best idea," he said wryly after a time.

"I know," she admitted with a small smile, running her fingers in his hair. "I wish you could stay with me tonight."

"I do, too. You understand why I can't, right? It's what you want, too, isn't it?"

"I just don't want it to be all about me and my job. Rod, letting my past—my fears—stop me from making love with you before was the biggest mistake of my life. If I hadn't freaked out, what happened with Mike never would have impacted me like it did, and we never would have broken up."

"Mac…" he groaned.

She touched his leg. "Honey, I know you feel differently. But I don't want you ever to doubt again that I love you and want you. So if the only reason you don't want to make love is because of my job or the election, I meant what I said before, I'll risk it."

"I won't let you put what you love at risk. And there are a lot of other reasons besides that to wait."

"I know," she agreed. "But just out of curiosity, Your Honor, what kind of time frame did you have in mind?"

He laughed but then turned serious. "Truthfully? I don't know. Until it can't hurt any of us is the best I can offer at the moment. Yes, we are available and consenting adults, but I don't want what we have between us cheapened. I won't give your political enemies ammunition to use against you, or risk having my court and my colleagues dragged through the mud. And what about the twins? There are so many reasons I don't want that for them. I would hate them to be confronted with speculation in the tabloids every time they step into a convenience or grocery store, or have to deal with teasing from friends, classmates or even strangers because I'm rumored to be sleeping with the President."

"I don't want that for them either."

"I know… and I appreciate how much you care about them more than I can ever say. But I also don't want that for us. I don't want to sneak around, or feel hurried or rushed. I don't want what we have between us cheapened. Mackenzie, I don't want just to love you, I want to sleep with you in my arms, and wake up with you next to me. I know that's what you want, too."

"More than anything," she said expressively, again snuggling closer to him. "It's a good thing you're family is coming tomorrow."

"Absolutely," he readily agreed with a chuckle as he wrapped his arms around her. "_Tempt not a desperate man_."

She tilted her face to look up at him. "Is that a quote?"

"Shakespeare. _Romeo and Juliet_."

"I should have known," she replied, pressing her lips against his heart and feeling his breath become uneven. With a coy smile, she looked up at him again and said, "Roderic, it's time to move on to the comedies…. We've had enough tragedy."

"Then '_kiss me, Kate._'"


	31. Like Sunshine After Rain

"Love comforteth like sunshine after rain." -Shakespeare, Venus and Adonis

**31. Like Sunshine After Rain**

**Friday, April 22, 2016**

"Madam President, is this about proving how tough you are?"

Mac stared her colleague down. "I'm going to pretend those words did not just come out of your mouth, Allison," she said, deliberately using her first name, rather than her title, Majority Leader of the United States Senate.

"Madam President, you haven't thought this…."

Mac was done. It had been a long and trying day, and she was in no mood to listen to the pretentious ramblings of Nathan Templeton. "Mr. Speaker," she cut him off, "you—all of you—are here because it is my legal duty under the intelligence oversight provisions to inform you of my course of action. I did not bring you here for advice. Thank you for coming, ladies and gentlemen. Have a pleasant weekend." She stood and walked over to her desk, staring out the window while her Chief of Staff played the "good cop" and diplomatically showed the eight congressional leaders out of the Oval Office.

When it was quiet, she turned around only to find Nathan still in the room. She sat down at her desk and leaned back in her chair. "Is there something else, Mr. Speaker? Or is this a social call?"

He chuckled and sat down across from her. "I'm concerned about you."

"Me? Well, isn't that generous of you." Her tone was mocking.

"How long do you think that you can keep this affair quiet?"

"Affair?" she repeated. "Don't you mean operation?"

He chuckled. "Affair."

"Mr. Speaker, it is late and I am in no mood for riddles." She leaned forward and pretended to arrange the papers on her desk.

"Your renewed relationship with your former lover. I have to hand it to you. Hiring his son was a brilliant move—provides you with plenty of cover."

Mac hid her shock, looked up from her desk and smiled. Casually she said, "As usual, you've taken two plus two and come up with five."

"Do you mean to say you're not sleeping with him? Come on, Mac, you don't honestly expect me to believe…."

"What you believe, Nate, is up to you. Now the truth is an entirely different matter."

"Truth?" he questioned, his voice rising.

"Truth." She cut him off. "Cooper Calloway was hired for one reason and one reason only. He was and is the best person for the job. As for his father? Of course, our paths were going to cross again. It was inevitable. Were we in love in law school? Absolutely. However, we were never lovers. And there is no affair, as you so delicately put it. There never has been and never will be. But, if there's ever something of significance to announce, you'll be the first to know," she added insincerely.

"He's a Republican, you know," Nathan said with a tease.

Mac didn't take the bait. "He's a federal judge. He takes his constitutional oath as seriously as we do our own. Now, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Speaker, I have some dinner guests waiting for me upstairs, and I'd like to join them." She walked over and opened the office door and waited for her colleague and adversary to leave.

"Good night, Madam President," he said.

"My best to Sarah," she replied. She was surprised to find Cooper still at his desk. She took a deep breath, and tried to put her conversation with Nathan out of her mind. "All quiet?" she asked Cooper once the Speaker had gone.

"Yes, ma'am." He stood to greet her.

"Good. Let's call it a week." With a relieved smile, she turned to her secretary, "Laura, before you leave, would you talk with Jim about some changes to next week's schedule? I'm afraid it's going to be ugly for all of us."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll go do that now."

After she left, Mac looked at Cooper and said, "I thought you were going to take off."

"Yeah right! I'm the Personal Aide to the President of the United States and she's still working."

She laughed. "More like you didn't want a lecture from a higher authority, am I right?"

"Oh yeah!" He grinned. "I'd never hear the end of it. Everything okay down there?"

"I hope so. We've done all we can—at least for now. So much for a quiet, easy day." She looked at her watch. "Anything that needs my attention before we head upstairs?"

"No, ma'am. But I did put the reports in your brief case that Mr. Gardner wants you to look over this weekend."

She nodded. "Let's leave them here tonight. But make sure we bring them with us on the plane tomorrow. Hopefully, there will be time to get through them on the trip back."

"Good luck," he said as they walked towards the door. "They're about six inches thick."

She groaned. As they walked along the colonnade, she asked, "Have I made you miss the game?"

He shook his head. "Nah. We'll just go late. Game doesn't matter until the fourth quarter anyway."

"Want me to have the Service drop you off?"

"Thanks, but we'll take the Metro. I want to get out of this strait jacket." He loosened his collar. "And Harrison thinks the subway is awesome."

Mac smiled, uncertain of whether a fondness for all forms of transportation was a "male" thing or a "Calloway male" thing. "What about helicopters and planes, does he like those, too?"

"What do you think?" He took off his tie and hung it around his neck.

"Do you think he'd like to come with us tomorrow?"

"To Ohio?"

She nodded.

"Who wouldn't? Dad and Uncle John will probably be glad. They were taking him to the Nats game while Nana and Aunt Syd go with the girls and Jack to the zoo. But I'm sure they'd rather play golf."

She chuckled. "Undoubtedly."

When they reached the Palm Room, Cooper asked, "Are we eating dinner right away?"

"Probably about thirty minutes. Your Dad wants to man the grill himself."

"Yeah, he's a total geek about that stuff," he agreed with a smirk that continued to remind her of Rod. "Okay if I go change first?"

"Of course. We'll wait for you."

Again he smirked. "I'll be back long before it's ready. Trust me, Dad's very particular about grilling."

She laughed as he walked out the north door then entered the Residence to the right. After not much exercise the past week, her leg muscles loudly suggested she take the stairs. When she reached the landing on the First Floor, the Chief Usher came out of his office and met her in the Entrance Hall. "Good evening, Mr. Waverly. Are Judge Calloway and his family upstairs?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied. "In the Solarium."

"Is everything arranged for dinner?"

"Of course, ma'am."

"Thank you."

"Ma'am?"

She stopped and turned.

"The staff wanted me to convey their happiness for you and let you know that they like Judge Calloway very much."

She smiled and felt herself flush a little. "Thank you," she said with genuine affection. "Please thank every one for their continual kindness, support and discretion. It means a great deal to me." He smiled at her but his attention was quickly drawn away. She turned and her breath caught at the sight of Rod coming down the stairs.

"She appears," he told her lightly with a smile as he joined her.

A sigh escaped as she inevitably thought about how the day had gone. "I'm sorry."

"Comes with the territory, right, Mr. Waverly?" He draped an arm around her shoulder.

"It certainly does, sir."

"Done for the day?" Rod asked her.

She relaxed against him at the feel of his strong, yet soothing hand massaging her neck. "That's the plan. We were just talking about dinner."

"No worries there." He winked at Mr. Waverly. "I had a sneak peek. It's amazing. Ready to head up?"

"Perfect." She smiled up at him.

They said good night and walked upstairs hand in hand. "How was your afternoon?" she asked.

"A lot more pleasant than yours," he replied. "It sounds like you had a tough day."

"It seems like a week since we had breakfast together. But as you said, it comes with the territory."

"Want to talk about it?"

She sighed, and mentally reviewed the day—particularly her confrontation with Nathan. "Part of it, I can't—not yet anyway. National Security stuff. Do you mind if we skip the rest? Just for tonight. I don't want it to ruin our evening together."

He stopped as they reached the second floor landing and looked her over. "You okay?"

"I'm fine—really."

"We don't have to do this tonight. You're exhausted. I don't want this to be just one more thing you have to do."

She took the step that closed the gap between them and splayed her hands against his taut, wide chest. Tilting her face up at him, she said, "I'm fine. I've looked forward to this all day."

"You're sure?" He ran his fingers through her hair, tucking it behind her ear.

Still gazing up at him, she stroked his chest and said, "Since you came back into my life, I've realized how lonely it is to come home to an empty, quiet house. I love having you here—and your family."

He spanned her waist with his hands. "I've come to hate the quiet, too. I think I'm starting to drive my in-laws crazy because I've been over there so much lately."

"They adore you," she told him with a shake of the head. "They know about us, don't they?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"How hard was it to tell them? Did they take it okay?" she asked hesitantly, playing with the buttons on his oxford shirt.

"Not hard at all," he assured her. He lifted her chin so that her eyes were upon his own. "It's what they want for me—for us. I promise you they are thrilled." He bent his head and kissed her. A kiss that started out as gentle, but ended hot and hungry. Afterwards he kept her in his embrace and asked rhetorically, "Do you know what I looked forward to all day?"

"What?" she asked indulgently.

"This… and having you in my arms."

"There's no place I'd rather be." She laid her head high on his chest and immediately his hold on her tightened.

Eventually, he kissed the top of her head. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Uh huh."

"Well, then lets go upstairs and meet the crazies. I did try to hold them off. But Sydney threatened to tear me apart limb by limb if I made her wait another weekend before seeing you again. It was killing her that the rest of the family got to see you again first."

"I'm delighted they're here, and that your mother was able to come, too. How's your grandmother today?" Rebecca had suffered a fall earlier in the week, breaking her arm in such a way that a rod had to be inserted through the bone to help it heal. Will had remained in Connecticut with her, but she had insisted that Elizabeth join Sydney and John as planned.

"Cranky," he replied. "Dad and Alex have their hands full."

She laughed. "I bet. How much longer will she remain hospitalized?"

"She's demanding they release her tomorrow. But we'll see."

Mac smiled. The Calloway matriarch was a marvelously formidable woman, elegant and aristocratic yet supremely grounded and unpretentious, with an unwavering moral compass that governed her life and the lives of her family. Rod had learned so much from her—and his parents.

They began to walk into the East Sitting Hall and the closest staircase to the third floor, when she stopped. "I forgot the surprises for the kids. They're in my room." They turned and instead walked through the Central and West Sitting Halls to her bedroom.

He surveyed the room, his eyes lingering on her big canopied bed for a moment. "Do you know this is the first time I've been in here?"

She followed his gaze and intense desire swept over her as his eyes lingered on her bed. "You shouldn't tease me," she told him with a pout as she continued towards her dressing room and bathroom.

He caught hold of her hand. "Come here."

She immediately changed directions and walked into his embrace. He took her in his arms and wreaked more havoc on her senses with long, slow, tantalizing kisses, full of love and heat, and want and need.

"A taste of things to come," he whispered hoarsely when they were both spent. However, her soft moan and frustrated sigh about left him undone. "Don't do that to me," he groaned in protest. "I'm holding on here by a thread."

She lightly ran her fingertips down his chest and abdomen and felt his body contract. "Are you sure you don't want me to snap it?" she asked, her hands now resting on his belt buckle which she deftly released.

"Mackenzie," he begged, his breathing irregular, "I know I lit the match…."

Leaning closer to him she kissed him and moved her hands to the top buttons on his jeans. She felt his body stiffen and tremble, and it thrilled her to know how easily she could send him over the edge. He was as hot and ready as she was. She wanted him more now than she ever had. If only they could shut the world out—for just a little while. But they couldn't. For the time being, they could light a match between them, but they couldn't let their fire burn. There was no other choice for them. Her earlier conversation with Templeton was a stark reminder of what was at stake, and what each of them wanted for the other. Before they reached the point of no return, she removed her hands, brushed her lips across his cheek, and whispered, "Just a sampling of what else is to come."

As she strolled into her dressing room, he sank into a sofa to button his fly. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply and tried to think of anything but how much he wanted her. He found that being only six feet from her bed was definitely not helping matters so he walked into the hall and pulled a book on 18th century American architecture from off a shelf. If this doesn't work, he wryly told himself, he'd try reciting the periodic table. Strike that, he revised, better stay far away from the subject of chemistry for the moment… and far, far away from her bedroom.

"Ready?" she asked from the doorway a few minutes later, wearing striped cropped pants and a matching t-shirt. She heard is audible intake of breath when he turned to her. "What?"

"You are so beautiful." His voice was thick with emotion and his eyes were full of love. "It's a lucky thing there are small children waiting upstairs."

"Down boy," she told him with a warm smile, tossing him a regulation-sized football.

"What's this?"

"It's for Harrison. Cooper picked it up."

"He'll love it." As they climbed the stairs to the third floor, he said, "Backpacks like Gracie's for the girls, I see."

"Thought it would be best given how close they are. And one for Jack, too, with a few little toys."

"You know, honey, you really didn't have to do that," he told her.

"Is the pot calling the kettle black? Because from what I know, you are the expert when it comes to using gifts and bribes as a means of winning the affection and cooperation of children."

He laughed. "You've got me there. I'm sure they will be putty in your hands." He took her hand as they walked down the small corridor leading to the Solarium.

XXXXXXXXXX

When they walked into the room, Elizabeth saw them first. Her joy in seeing the two of them together was evident in her expression.

"We wondered if you got lost," Sydney told her brother with a smirk.

"Nah," he exclaimed with a cocky grin, "just unavoidably detained." He took the three little backpacks from Mackenzie, and put them on the floor along with the football. "Where are John and the kids?"

"Outside with Cooper enjoying the view," Elizabeth informed them.

Mac looked at her watch. "Junior's back already?"

"About fifteen minutes ago," Elizabeth replied with a knowing look.

"Sorry for the delay… had no idea we were that slow," she said with slight embarrassment.

"You're entitled," Sydney assured her with a smug smile. "It's wonderful to see you again, Madam President. I knew you were smart and ambitious but isn't this a bit much, even for you?" she added, gesturing to their surroundings.

Mac laughed. "Trust me, I was the most surprised of all. But it's turned out better than expected—both professionally and personally." She felt Rod's arms come around her from behind and with a pleasant sigh, she leaned back against him.

"So which one of you was most surprised by Cooper's sudden change in plans last January? And what went through your minds when you first saw each other again?" Sydney asked. "I mean, now that it's not taboo to talk about it, enquiring minds want to know."

"Taboo?" Rod questioned.

"Yeah, immediately after we learned that you'd seen each other again, Mom laid down the law to Alex, Nana and me about talking to you about Mackenzie. You didn't know?"

"Nope, but it explains a lot," he said with a chuckle. Seeing something in Mackenzie's eyes, he whispered to her, "You don't seem at all surprised. I'm sensing a conspiracy."

"It worked, didn't it?" Elizabeth threw out, taking a seat on the sofa behind her. "I was not going to risk you feeling backed into a corner. Don't look at me like that," she told him. "You know how stubborn you can be. You likely would have cut off your nose to spite your face if your sisters and grandmother had started in on you."

Mac smiled and tilted her face to look up at him. "And what a handsome face it is."

"Hey," Cooper interjected, coming into the room with Jack on his shoulders, "it's about time the two of you showed up."

"I wanted to change, too," Mac told him.

"You know how slow women are," Rod joked. He took his youngest nephew from his son. "And this, honey, is John Calloway McKinlay… or Captain Jack for short."

"Hi, Jack." She gently tousled his blond curls. "How old are you?"

"Two." He held up the appropriate number of fingers.

"He looks like Cooper and Christopher," Mac said.

"With the personality to match," Elizabeth added.

Mac picked up the mini-backpack from the floor and pulled out a small black metal replica of the presidential limousine.

"Look, Mackenzie has a surprise for you," Rod told the toddler in his arms. "What is it, bud?" he asked as Mac held the toy out to him.

"Car!" Jack exclaimed, grabbing it with his little hands.

"Say 'thank you,'" Sydney insisted.

"Tank ooh," he repeated.

"What color is it?" Rod asked him.

"Back!"

"Very good," Mac told him affectionately, handing him the backpack. "You are so smart."

"Not bad for the son of a Harvard man, huh?" Rod teased.

"What he really means," Sydney piped in, "is thank heavens for those Calloway Yale genes."

Mac laughed.

"Is my oh so distinguished brother-in-law taking my name in vain again?" A deep voice with a clipped Mid-Atlantic accent announced from the door leading outside to the Promenade.

"Mackenzie, may I introduce the Honorable John Maxwell McKinlay." Rod gave an exaggerated bow.

"Madam President," John joined them. "It is truly an honor. Although what you are doing hanging around with this sorry fellow is beyond me."

"Just lucky, Your Honor," she replied. "No 'Madam President,' however," she said to John and Sydney, who were both exactly her height. John's hair was nearly as dark as Rod's (although not as thick) and his eyes were almost black in color. None of the McKinlay children she immediately noticed had inherited his coloring. All four of them were blond like their mother with light blue eyes.

"I am so happy that all of you could come," she said to the group at large, particularly the three oldest children. She bent down slightly to speak with the two six year-old girls who were each shyly holding one of their father's hands. The two of them were almost identical looking, which almost came as a shock to her given the physical differences in their mother and aunt. "Let me guess, you must be Amelia Alexandra—Mia," she said to the one on the left.

"Yes, ma'am."

Mac looked to her right. "And you are Taylor Jane, and you like to be called TJ, is that right?"

"Yes, ma'am," she answered similarly. "How did you know?"

"Because your Uncle Rod has shown me pictures of you, and your cousin Grace told me all about both of you."

"You don't look like Madam President on T.V.," Mia interjected. "You look like a supermodel."

Mac smiled and straightened up.

"Yeah," TJ added, "you're beautiful and I think you're taller than Mommy."

"But not as tall as Uncle Rod," Mia clarified.

"He's taller than everybody—even Papa and Cooper," said their older brother, who was now standing next to Cooper. "I'm Harrison Maxwell McKinlay. Nice to meet you, Madam President." He held out his hand confidently.

With a quick smile directed at Rod because he truly was a miniature Cooper, Mac warmly shook hands with him. "I'm very happy to meet you, too. But we'll need to think of something else for all of you to call me," she said to the three youngsters. "'Madam President' is too stuffy and boring."

The twins looked at each other and nervously giggled.

"Why don't we use 'Aunt Mac' or 'Aunt Mackenzie?'" Sydney suggested. "If that's okay with you, Mac?"

Feeling suddenly self-conscious about appearing presumptuous, she hesitated momentarily. But when she felt Rod supportively caress the small of her back, she smiled. "I think it's perfect."

"But only when we're with family," John told his children. "Otherwise, we use 'ma'am' or 'Madam President,' is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," they answered in unison.

"Harr... Coop… look," Jack said loudly, holding out his toy limousine towards his brother and cousin while still clutching his new backpack in his other arm.

"Cool!" Harrison answered. "Did Uncle Rod give that to you?"

Jack shook his head and pointed to Mac. "She," he replied, as everyone laughed.

"This is 'Aunt Mac,'" Rod told him, while bringing Mackenzie in closer. "Can you say, 'Aunt Mac?'"

"An Mac," Jack repeated with a nod and a big toothy grin. "Her nice," he added.

"Very nice," Rod agreed, kissing her on the cheek. He turned to his other nephew and nieces, "Aunt Mackenzie has surprises for y'all, too."

"Yay!" Both twins exclaimed.

"I'll get them." Cooper first picked up the backpacks and handed them to the twins, who immediately unzipped them to see what was inside.

Mia put a hand on her hip and looked at her twin with a smile. "See, I told you we'd get a surprise like Gracie."

"What do you say, girls?" Sydney said to her daughters.

"Thank you, Aunt Mackenzie," TJ responded.

"Yeah, thanks, Aunt Mac," Mia added. "Can we color now, please?"

"Sure," Sydney told them. "Why don't you go sit over there on the floor? Jack can play with you."

"But he always ruins things," Mia protested.

"Amelia…" John warned.

"I know, I know…." She rolled her eyes. "Come on, Jack," she said to her brother grudgingly. Their Uncle set him down, still clutching his own backpack and toy limousine, and she led him over to the floor in front of the large windows with TJ and the three of them began to play.

Mac picked up the football and gave it to Harrison.

"Know what it is, bud?" Cooper asked rhetorically. "It's an official Air Force One ball from the airlift operations guys."

"Wow! Thanks, Aunt Mackenzie."

"You are welcome," she answered with a big smile. "Cooper's the one you should thank though. He picked it out just for you."

"Thanks, Coop." He looked back up at his new aunt and asked, "Do we really get to see Marine One land on the grass tomorrow? I saw a show on television about it. It is so cool."

She chuckled and made quick eye contact with Rod, who gave her a shrug and a look that said, "of course, he's obsessed with your transportation toys, what did you expect?" "You sure do," she told him. "In fact, Cooper and I were wondering if you would like to come with us tomorrow when we campaign in Ohio."

"On Air Force One, too?"

"Uh huh," she assured him. "If you're parents say it's okay."

"Can I, please?" he begged.

"It's 'may I,'" his father corrected, "but yes."

"Are you thinking what I am?" Rod asked his brother-in-law.

"Golf instead of baseball?" John replied.

"Oh, yeah!" Rod agreed.

"I don't think so," Sydney told them. "You'll love the zoo with the girls and Jack while Mom and I shop or hit the spa."

The men groaned while Mac laughed, all the while hating that she had to be on the road tomorrow.

"How about a compromise?" John suggested. "Nine holes and then we take the kids to the zoo?"

"What do you think, Mom?" Syd said to Elizabeth, who had remained on the sofa, enjoying the interaction between her family.

"Oh, I think that's a fair compromise," she agreed. "But frankly, I may want to join them at the zoo. It's been many years since I've been there and I hear the new panda cubs are adorable."

John and Rod laughed as Sydney pretended to be annoyed.

"I just wish I could be there, too," Mac said. "I hate campaigning."

"She says that now," Rod said playfully as he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his side. "But when the bright lights come on and she hears the thunderous applause and wolf-whistles from the crowd, it's an entirely different story."

"How would you know, when you're afraid to be seen with me?" she taunted, tilting her head up towards his face and giving him a smug smile.

"Nicely done, Madam." John gave her a bow. "Looks like Yale has met his match."

"But you forget, Harvard," Rod answered, "she's also a Yalie… with the highest overall grade average in the history of the law school."

"Are they always like this?" Mac asked Sydney.

"Unfortunately." Syd chuckled. "It's even worse when Matt, Christopher and big Cooper are around. Then he's really outnumbered."

"Matt went to Princeton?"

"Yep," Rod told her.

"Heaven help us!" Mac exclaimed, rolling her eyes.

"Coop, can we still go to the basketball game?" Harrison loudly whispered to his cousin.

"Dad?"

Rod looked at his watch. "You can take off."

"What do you think? Want to go now and grab a hotdog or something for dinner?" Cooper asked his young cousin.

"Yeah. Dad, will you hang on to this?" Harrison handed his father the football then followed his cousin.

"Have fun, boys," Mac said to their departing backs.

"Thanks, boss." Cooper threw back.

"I'll be right back with the meat and vegetables." Rod kissed Mackenzie on the cheek. "Will you call downstairs and tell them we'll be ready for the rest in about twenty minutes?"

XXXXXXXXXX

Mac made the call then followed Rod straight down the hall into the small third floor kitchen where she found him adding seasoning to the vegetable and chicken kabobs that had been marinating in the refrigerator. His back was turned and she was able to catch him by surprise. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and began nuzzling his neck.

"Hey…." He put down the seasoning. "You here to check up on me?"

She kissed him on the cheek. "No, but it looks good. Did you spend part of the afternoon in the kitchen?"

He turned into her and placed his hands on her waist. "Like I'm fit to be in the same room with your chefs."

She leaned up and kissed him on the mouth. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For stepping in and taking charge of tonight."

"It's my family… you shouldn't be stuck with the arrangements."

She shook her head. "It's more than that… It's… Well, nobody else would have done it."

His mouth twitched. "With anyone else you'd be taken out on the town, romanced, and wined and dined for the whole world to see, instead of being stuck at home—and with his family."

"Going out is overrated." She shrugged.

"This can't be what you envisioned for yourself? What you want?"

For a moment she stared at him. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"I'm not being fair to you." He caressed her cheek, and quietly explained, "You deserve more than a man with my baggage. You deserve someone who can campaign with you—who can be with you wherever you go. Someone who can publicly support you and stand by your side."

She remained confounded by the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes. "Rod…." She paused in an attempt to find her words. Then a thought occurred to her. "You do know I was teasing earlier about being seen with me? You must know I didn't mean…."

He nodded. "But it's true what you said. I can't campaign with you—even if we were out in public with our relationship. I can't attend fundraisers. I can't make speeches. I can't have anything to do with politics. I'll never be able to do those things. Honey, I can't give you what you should have in a relationship. I can't be there at your side—not like it should be anyway."

She was terrified that he had changed his mind about them and was pulling away from her. "What are you saying? You don't want this? Don't want us?"

"Never." He shook his head. "I love you. But I don't want to hold you back if you want or need more from a relationship than I can give."

"Roderic?" She was still confused.

"Mackenzie, I want nothing more than to be with you. But think about it—think honestly about it and what you need from a partner. And if you need something different than what I can do with the inherent limitations of my job and kids, I understand. I love you too much not to understand."

Without breaking eye contact, she slipped her arms around his neck. "All I want is you."

"Me, too." Even to his own ears, his voice sounded ragged and uneven. He leaned towards her and was grateful when she followed suit. With their foreheads melded together, he told her, "I love you so much. But I also want what's best for you. I'm not completely convinced that's me."

"There could never be anyone better for me than you." Surely he had to know that? Feel it in his heart and when they talked, touched… kissed. When they kissed, nothing else in the world mattered. She adjusted the angle of her head until their mouths touched, too. After a deep and lingering kiss, she kept her arms around him and, looking up into his face, said, "There is no one for me but you." When he sighed audibly, she added mischievously, "And Mister, there better be no one for you but me."

He laughed.

She was relieved to see the worry disappear from his brow. "Ready to do some grilling? I hear you are a total geek about it."

He grinned back. "Are you going to help me?"

"I'm going to visit with your mother and sister." With humor in her eyes because she understood the level of respect and affection he had for his brother-in-law, she added, "Looks like you're stuck with Harvard tonight."

"Can I at least have another kiss to tide me over?"

"You can have two."

XXXXXXXXXX

They returned to the Solarium and John joined Rod outside on the promenade, where the grill was located. Mac sat next to Elizabeth on the sofa with Sydney on an adjacent chair. "Sydney, I hope it was okay to ask Harrison to go with us tomorrow without talking to you first?"

"Are you kidding?" she replied. "He's going to think he's died and gone to heaven. I'm completely jealous."

Mac laughed with Elizabeth. "We'll have to plan a girls trip one of these days. It really is an amazing thing," she said. "It's so good to have all of you here. It doesn't seem possible that it's been more than twenty-one years. Syd, you were a teenager. And now you have four kids…."

"And am on the verge of middle age," Syd finished the thought.

"Thirty-eight isn't even in the same neighborhood as middle age. Trust me, I know that place very well, and you are no where near it," Mac told her wryly. "Tell me about your work. Mostly freelance, Rod tells me?"

"With the kids, it's the only way I can make it work; and I like the freedom and flexibility freelancing gives me. I do it in the mornings when the three oldest are at school. I have someone who comes in and helps with Jack."

"You don't happen to do formal wear, do you?" Mac asked her.

Syd smiled. "What did you have in mind? An Inauguration gown? Or a wedding dress?"

Mac felt herself begin to flush. She prided herself on being unflappable and had never been one to blush. Except when it came to him. He'd always affected her that way. When they'd been together before, it alarmed her. She hated how vulnerable it made her feel. Now, however, it was a comfort—a reminder of who she was to him and with him. "Actually, I was thinking of the State Dinner for the President of France that was just put on the schedule for the Fall. You know the French, I can't afford to get upstaged in my own house."

Syd laughed. "It would be an honor, Madam President. A State Dinner—that must be such a trip."

"There's nothing like a formal state visit with all the accompanying pomp and ceremony to boost the ego," Mac admitted. "I'm hoping by then I can convince your brother to be my official date." Her eyes drifted in his direction.

Syd and Elizabeth's eyes also followed. "I can't believe the change in him. He's disgustingly happy," Syd told her.

"Sydney," Elizabeth protested.

"You know what I mean, Mom. You know how it's been for him. It was long past time he moved on. He finally has, thanks to you, Mac."

At her words, Mac felt a warmth cover her like a security blanket.

TJ ran over to them. "Mom, Jack stinks and I have to use the bathroom, too."

"Would you like me to take them?" Mac asked.

Syd shook her head. "I've got it down to a science. Just point me in the right direction."

Mac turned towards the hall leading to the main part of the floor. "There's a bedroom with a bathroom adjacent to the hall on either side. Take your pick."

"Thank you." Sydney grabbed her diaper bag and her son. "You do stink," she told him affectionately as both twins followed her down the hall.

Mac followed them out with her eyes and then turned to Elizabeth. "How about a drink?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "I'll wait until dinner. Sounds like you had a long, hard day."

Mac walked over to the little bar and grabbed a cold bottle of diet soda from the small refrigerator. "It definitely didn't go as I had hoped. Did Rod give you a tour?"

"We decided to wait for you and Cooper."

She sat back down on the sofa. "I've learned a lot about the place, but Junior's the true expert when it comes to White House history."

"I know better. According to him, it's all you," Elizabeth informed her. "He is crazy about you. He talks about you non-stop. And as his grandmother, I can't tell you how thrilled and grateful I am that he has you in his life. He needs you. They all do."

"I love him… and his sister."

Elizabeth smiled. Quietly she replied, "I know you do, and I couldn't ask for more for my family. Sydney's right. Seeing Rod happy again… well, it's a miracle. I hoped it would work out this way when I first heard you'd hired Cooper, but I have to admit to having my doubts when I saw him last—saw exactly how much he was hurting and how much he still had to work through."

Mac was confused. "In Boston?"

"Atlanta."

"I didn't know you…. Elizabeth, why did he take off like he did?" She set her half empty soda bottle on the end table.

"He didn't tell you?"

She shook her head. "Not really. He didn't seem ready to talk about it when he came back right before my trip. It was almost like an open wound. I wasn't about to push him."

"You know, I'm not surprised," Elizabeth acknowledged. "It would be too much for any of us to process in such a short time. It tells me something though—that he came before you're trip—before he was completely ready."

"What?" she asked.

Elizabeth put a hand on her leg. "That his love for you is stronger than the grief and hurts of the past."

Mac's heart broke for him—for what he'd been through, for what she'd put him through, and for what she could have prevented. She would regret her foolishness forever. Yet she also felt such joy and peace in his love. Looking his mother in the eye, she said, "I love him, too—so much. I wish that I could have been half as brave when we were together before. If I had, we would never have been apart."

"Mackenzie, I wouldn't dwell on that too much. Life has a way of working out. But if it's important to you, ask him about it. He's like his father and his grandfather. He's not afraid to open up once he's got it worked out in his head and in his heart."

"Thank you, Elizabeth."

"Thank you… for saving my son. I know there will be challenges for you to work through, but I firmly believe you are the only one who could have made him start living and loving again."

Before Mac could respond the twins ran back into the room followed by Sydney and Jack. A few minutes later, the stewards brought up the remainder of their meal, and John and Rod came in from the grill with their main course.

The evening flew by, she realized as she walked them all out through the East Wing, even the new animated film she had arranged for them to watch downstairs in the theater. It wouldn't open in regular theaters for a couple of weeks. The twins were surprised and squealed in delight. Truthfully, she enjoyed it, too. Much more than she had anticipated. However, what she enjoyed the most was little Jack curled up asleep in Rod's lap. He had always been a magnet for children, but seeing him with Jack gave her a glimpse of how it must have been between him and Cooper years ago.

"Thanks, Mac," John told her when they reached the door. "You've completely spoiled us."

She shook her head. "I'm the one who has been spoiled tonight. Are the two of you still up for a game of doubles in the morning?" she asked him and Sydney.

"Mom?" Syd asked Elizabeth.

"Absolutely. I'm happy to watch the kids," she agreed.

"I'm sure they will be asleep," Syd said.

"Should we say eight o'clock? Then breakfast with everyone around nine?" Mac suggested. "I'd say later but the boys and I have to leave for Ohio shortly after eleven."

"Sounds perfect," John agreed.

"What should I have Harrison wear tomorrow?" Syd asked her. "He's got a navy blazer, slacks, shirt and tie. Is that nice enough?"

"That will be perfect. I'll see all of you in the morning."

"You staying longer? Want me to take Jack from you?" John asked his brother in law, who was still holding the sleeping toddler.

"He's fine." Rod turned to Mackenzie. "I'm not going to stay. You've had a rough day and I'm sure the jet lag is kicking in."

Much as she hated saying goodnight, she couldn't argue with his words. "Okay."

He kissed her briefly on the mouth and whispered, "I love you."

"Love you, too," she replied softly.

XXXXXXXXXX

**Sunday, April 24, 2016**

"How about a walk?" Rod asked Mac after dinner on Sunday evening. His family had flown back to Connecticut late in the afternoon, and Cooper had just gone home to study. It was the first time in two days they'd been alone, other than a few minutes yesterday when she'd pulled him into her private study for an intimate goodbye kiss prior to her departure with the boys. She and Sydney had been looking over Becca's sketches for the redesign of her office while they waited for the helicopter. Afterwards, he remained inside—away from the peering eyes of the press corps—while everyone else had a tour of Marine One.

"I'd love it," she agreed.

He pulled back her chair and together they walked downstairs. They strolled through the Jacqueline Kennedy garden in companionable silence and onto the driveway that encircled the upper portion of the South Lawn. It was nearing dusk but still light enough for Rod to witness the Secret Service hastily hustling tourists away from the first fence line. Without being conscious of it, he chuckled aloud.

Mac had seen where his eyes had automatically gone once they hit the driveway, and watched his reaction with amusement. "You're right. This whole thing is completely absurd. But at this point, I'll take whatever privacy we can get.

He looked at her and smiled before they began to walk once more. "Just so you know, I am getting used to it."

"Good." She smiled back. "Because I'd really like to keep living here."

"I tell you what," he said as they passed the path leading to her office. "You get to choose where we spend our first nine years together, and I get to pick the next twenty."

His words surprised her. A long-term future between them was of course what she wanted, but she hadn't yet let herself think too far into that future. "You're really thinking that far ahead?"

"Would I be here if I wasn't?"

She smiled. "How come you get twenty years when I only get nine?" she asked. She meant to tease him, but her voice sounded breathy.

"Because, Madam President, you get first pick. It's only fair I get the next two." Seeing they were now outside any public view, he took her hand as they walked down the crest of the driveway. Towards the bottom of the hill where the surface flattened out, he said, "I missed you today at church."

"I have a confession to make," she told him. "There was no emergency. I made it up."

He stopped. "Why?"

She sighed and turned towards him. "I had to meet with the gang of eight Friday before dinner. Afterwards Nathan Templeton confronted me about what he is calling our 'affair.' I told him there was no affair—there never has been. But…" She shrugged. "I thought it would be best not to be seen together this morning. If he's on our trail, it's only a matter of time before the media and tabloids start speculating. Although we've been discreet the two times we've been together in public, we've also been lucky. But there's no telling with Nathan—no predicting what he might do or who he might contact."

"I'm sorry about this…. You deserve so much more than what I'm giving you."

"Roderic, stop. Don't talk like that," she insisted. She closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his back. "It's not a big deal to me, waiting until you are ready. Being with you is all I want or need."

"But on top of everything else, you shouldn't have to worry about this," he pointed out, slipping his arms around her back, too.

"It is what it is," she replied, using his words against him.

He saw the twinkle in her eyes and sighed. He'd always been a sucker for those eyes, which was just as well because when they sparkled like they did now, her mind was firmly made up. "It is what it is," he repeated, his tone resigned. He bent his head and kissed her.

"I feel like a love-struck kid when you kiss me like that," she told him when eventually he moved on from her mouth to the hollow of her neck.

He lifted his head and stared into her eyes. "Me, too. It feels good. I want to make love with you so much."

"I want you, too." She ran her fingers through his hair. He wore it shorter than when they were in law school. But she still loved the texture of it. Her own hair felt so coarse in comparison. "But I'll also never get tired of hugging and kissing, and cuddling."

He smiled. "Should we finish our walk and then go inside for some more of that while pretending to watch a movie? We've got a long, lonely week ahead of us."

"Sounds like the perfect end to a wonderful weekend."

He kept his arm around her shoulders as they continued their walk around the driveway. "You had the basketball court cleaned up," he said as his eyes fell on the court in front of them and slightly to their right.

"Just for you," she answered. "They're supposed to be installing a new hoop with a regulation sized backboard." Other improvements would also be made—Cooper was helping her with the plans, but she wanted those to be a surprise.

"I love it." He gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." As they walked past the wide South Fountain on their right side, she commented, "Cooper found a photo recently of the Kennedy children using the fountain as a swimming pool."

"Really? I guess it makes sense. The outdoor pool wasn't built until years later, right?"

"Uh huh." She nodded. "That must have been a huge challenge trying to raise young children here."

"And that was over fifty years ago. Imagine how much harder it would be today with the increased scrutiny and security. Well, at least the twins are adults." He pointed to their right. "Look how beautiful the Washington Monument is all lit up with the moon overhead."

Mac turned and looked before returning her attention to him. "It really is incredibly beautiful out here; particularly this time of year with the vibrant colors of spring. Of course, everything seems brighter when you're in love. Do you know how many times in the past few weeks I've received inquisitive looks from people I'm meeting with because apparently I have a big, stupid grin on my face."

He laughed.

"It's really not funny," she protested. "I mean global warming, the trade deficit, and the recent resurgence of the Tamil Tigers are not exactly happy things."

"You're not the only one with that problem." He took her hand and laced their fingers together. "I almost laughed out loud during the middle of oral argument on a homicide case last week. Talk about bad. That would be even worse than falling asleep, which happened to a close friend of mine last year. Unfortunately for him, the third member of our panel was the chief judge. He's crotchety and old school when it comes to judicial demeanor and the perceived sanctity of the court. He stopped the argument and made the bailiff bring in a cup of black coffee for Patrick before we continued. Afterwards, the tongue-lashing Patrick received. Well, it still makes me quiver just thinking about it."

Mac chuckled before they lapsed into silence as they began to walk up the other side of the driveway back to the house. She hadn't been able to get Friday night's conversation with Elizabeth out of her head. But did she dare ask him about it? He seemed better. About two-thirds the way up the slope, she worked up the courage to ask him. "Honey, why did you take off after New Orleans? It's not like you to be out of touch that way."

He stopped. He owed her an explanation. But he was only now beginning to understand, so how could he begin to share or explain. He looked at her. Fortunately, there was enough light emanating from the house for him to see into her eyes. There, he saw more than what he expected: concern, compassion, curiosity… and most of all, love.

"I don't mean to pry or make you relive any…."

He silenced her with a touch of his fingers to her lips before brushing his mouth over hers in a tender kiss. "Let's go inside."

"My sitting room?" she suggested with relief.

He nodded.

As they walked back upstairs, her thoughts inevitably went back to the time in law school when he had pressed her to open up with him about her past because he was firmly convinced it was standing in the way and becoming an albatross between them. She'd been in denial and unlike him now, she vehemently resisted all attempts to open up and share. How different their lives would have been if she'd only had the courage to let him in. So much heartache and loneliness could have been avoided, and so much joy could have been shared together. Of course, what happened with David was still a mystery to her. Why wasn't she good enough for him? That was a question for which she still had no answer; and something she supposed that had driven her to achieve and to succeed.

XXXXXXXXXX

Once they settled themselves on one of the sofas, their legs draped on an ottoman, she waited for Rod to speak. He appeared lost in thought and she didn't want to disturb him, or rush him in any way. Instead she curled up close against his side, laced her fingers through his free hand, and laid her head against his shoulder. Eventually, he spoke.

"Boston was the anniversary of Lauren's death. That's what it says on her death certificate and tombstone anyway. It could have been the night before. I didn't look at the clock when she died. I didn't want to know. So we've always considered the 2nd to be the day."

Stunned, Mac sat up and looked at him. But she couldn't read him. "Honey, why didn't you say anything? Were you afraid to tell me? Afraid I wouldn't understand?"

He shook his head. "It's nothing like that," he assured her. He took a deep breath before continuing. "I forgot. I guess with Easter, and California, here and Boston, I lost track of the days. My parents and in-laws reminded me of it when I got back from New Orleans."

So that's what Elizabeth meant about being in Atlanta, Mac realized. "And not remembering is what caused you to take-off ?"

"In part," he acknowledged. "William, Anne and my parents…. Well, lets just say they were laying in wait for me when I got home that Tuesday evening, and they had a lot to say. Most of it, I wasn't prepared to hear. They told me it was time to move on, and that you loved me and I loved you. Coming right on top of realizing I'd forgotten the anniversary, I didn't take it very well."

Her face fell. "I see," she answered quietly. Maybe he wasn't as over Lauren as she wanted and hoped. Again the question that had haunted her crept in to her mind: How could she compete with a ghost?

He tenderly caressed the side of her face. "I don't think you do see. It wasn't because I didn't love you. I'm not sure I've ever completely stopped loving you—although I wasn't in love with you during those years with Lauren. I just didn't know I was in love with you… or I wasn't ready to admit it—not even to myself. I was furious at them for suggesting that I hadn't moved on when I was absolutely convinced I had. I was angry with myself for forgetting Lauren's death. Angry at you for making me forget. Angry at her for dying, and for giving me permission to love again and to be with you."

"She did?"

He nodded.

"But how?"

He took a deep breath then asked, "Do you mind if we just leave it at that?"

"Is that a polite way of telling me to mind my own business?"

"No." He shook his head. "It's just…. Does it really matter? She wanted me to move on. And I have. Isn't that the important thing?"

Mac knew the curiosity would kill her. But what choice did she have? All she could do was trust that he had moved on. Still it was hard not to be consumed with jealousy over their years together and Lauren's apparent hold on him. Fighting back against that green monster, she said, "You're right. It doesn't matter." She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "Sounds like a hard conversation with the parents," she told him, longing to hear the rest of the story.

"I was so angry, and finding out that it was what Lauren wanted was the last straw. I didn't want to hear any more. I just walked out, got in my car and drove. Probably not the smartest thing given how I was feeling. But I had to get out."

She took his hand and gave it an understanding squeeze.

"At first," he continued, "I just drove around aimlessly. I was too worked up to think clearly. Then I went to the cemetery. I didn't know where else to go. I was so angry—mostly with myself. I felt like I had betrayed her—betrayed what we had—by forgetting. My thoughts were all screwed up. My father came and found me. Somehow he knew where I'd gone. He told me I should get away for a while and give myself time to think. That just made me madder. So I went to the office and worked all night straight through the next day."

"Oh, honey…."

"It worked," he said with a wry chuckle. "Driving home Wednesday night I'd calmed down enough to see that Dad was right. So I drove to the airport instead. I called Mom and Dad, who were still at the house; and I sent text messages to the twins. I didn't call because honestly I didn't know how to explain it to them. I know I should have called you. But I didn't know about the book and the bear. I had brought the mail in and set it on the counter unopened. Then I got ambushed and forgot all about it. Truthfully, I wouldn't have known what to say then." He shrugged. "Anyway, I am sorry."

"I'm the one who is sorry." She curled up against him. "Sorry you had to go through that… and by yourself."

"I'm not," he kissed her forehead. "Mackenzie, it needed to happen. I hadn't moved on completely, and I hadn't given myself a chance to grieve. I had just shut down. I had pretended everything was okay for so long that I actually believed it. But it wasn't. I was only half alive."

"I was so scared I'd completely blown it by sending you the book and bear, and telling you how I felt."

He looked down into her eyes. "It was just what I needed from you. None of this would have been possible without you."

"When did you see them? When you got home?"

He nodded. "My mother knew I wouldn't miss work for too long, so she waited me out. When I arrived home she made sure I opened the box. The few days away had helped me find some perspective but I was still confused. Mom helped me see the truth. Her words, along with your message, were just what I needed."

"What did she say?"

"That it doesn't have to be Lauren or you. The present and future can embrace the past. And she reminded me there is plenty of room in my heart for both of you. And there is. Mackenzie, Lauren is my past and so are you. But you alone are my present and God willing my future. Can you live with that?"

"Absolutely." She put her hand over his heart, and reveled in its steady, symbolic beat.

He took her hand and brought it to his lips, before caressing the inside of her palm with his thumb. "I realized something else—thanks to you."

"What?" When he smiled for the first time since they'd come inside, it made her heart skip a beat.

"I may have lost the promise of joy for many years, but I rediscovered it the day I turned around in the Oval Office and there you were—more beautiful than ever. When I finally recognized that, I realized that I was already deeply in love with you—had been since the moment I saw you again. But I wanted to tell you in person. I wanted it to be special. So I waited the few days until I could see you again."

"I'm so glad you did. There is nothing you could have done that would have been more meaningful." When they kissed, it felt somehow new. The intimacy between them even more exquisite. Afterwards, they relaxed in each other's arms, hoping to prolong the precious time they had together before the demands of their outside lives forced them apart.

"The next few weeks are going to be endless," she said after a time. "I hate the thought of not seeing you for three weeks."

"I've been thinking about that," he informed her.

She tilted her head to see his face. "You have?"

"Uh huh." He nodded. "I can't do anything about Connecticut. I have to be there for Mother's Day, and we're celebrating the twins and Nana's birthdays. But when are you leaving for California?"

"Late Friday morning, I think. The dedication of Bridges' library is that afternoon in Miami, followed by a fund-raiser that night in Boca Raton. Early Saturday I fly to L.A. for a speech before the California Teachers Association and more fund-raising, and on Sunday morning I have a visit to the naval base in San Diego."

"Whew!" He pretended to wipe his brow. "I'm exhausted just thinking about it."

She smiled. "Welcome to my crazy world."

"Want some company? We'd at least get some time on the plane."

She smiled. "You know I'd love it. But what about the press? And Nathan? He's flying out with me to Florida."

"We'll do it like Boston. I'll get to Andrews in advance and remain in your cabin. While you're busy in California, I'll spend some time with Lauren's sister and her family. I want to tell Cara about us."

"Will she be okay with it?"

He covered her hand with his own. "She'll be thrilled... and a little intimidated by you at first."

"I'd love to meet her and her family." She was growing more comfortable with Lauren's family being a part of his life. She had to be because it wasn't going to change. She just had to keep in mind how supportive they'd been to him over the years, and that it was necessary for the twins. If Lauren's sister was anything like their parents, she, too, would be warm and welcoming.

He chuckled. "I'm sure you will. So what do you say? Think you can handle an extra passenger this weekend?"

"Oh yeah!" Suddenly she was excited about being on the road again. But the next four days seemed unbearable. "Honey, what time are you flying out in the morning?"

"Depends on you. What time do you start your day? And do you have time for breakfast?"

She smiled, and laid her head back on his shoulder. As his arms again came round her, she replied, "I have all the time in the world. I'm the President of the United States. They can't start the day's schedule without me."


	32. The Wind Beneath My Wing

Author's note: I struggled with this chapter, and it took a lot longer than I hoped or anticipated. I'm not sure why I struggled, and I'm still not sure I got it right. But as our hero in this story is fond of saying, "It is what it is." MPL

**32. The Wind Beneath My Wing**

**Friday, April 29, 2016**

Rod walked outside the terminal at Reagan-National airport shortly after 9:00 a.m. to find Agents Rivers and Jenkins waiting by a black government sedan. "The two of you drew the short end of the stick, huh?" he said with a smile as he reached the car.

"Not at all, sir," Jessica replied. "Happy to do it."

"Thank you." He handed his garment bag to Jeffrey, and checked his pocket for his cell phone before also placing his attaché case in the trunk and climbing into the back seat for the 20-30 minute drive to Andrews Air Force Base. Once they turned onto the George Washington Memorial Parkway, he asked, "Wheels up still scheduled for eleven o'clock?"

"Yes, sir," Jeffrey said, making eye contact with him through the rear view mirror. "Quiet day so far."

"Good. Just what she needs." Rod relaxed and stared out the window, already anxious to see her again. Once again she'd completely changed his world. He let his mind ponder their relationship—then and now. She'd always taken his breath away, affected him on some primitive level like nobody else ever had; and nobody—male or female—had ever challenged him the way she did. But now there were layers to their intimacy that weren't present before: their trust and understanding so much greater, their desire and passion deeper. Of course, life was a lot more complex now, too. It wasn't just about them any more—and it never would be again.

In no time at all it seemed they stopped on the tarmac in front of the huge VC-25A, one of two modified Boeing 747's that flew the U.S. president around the globe. Jessica opened the rear door and he stepped out of the sedan. Looking up at the magnificent machine, it was difficult to believe that it first made its presidential debut in 1990 during the administration of George H.W. Bush. It still looked new.

"I'll take care of your luggage, sir," Agent Rivers told him over the roof of the car. "Would you like your briefcase stowed or put it in the President's cabin?"

He nodded. "Up top. Thanks, Jeffrey."

Rod climbed the steep steps and was greeted warmly by James Davidson, Mac's primary pilot. "Welcome aboard again, Judge," the Air Force Colonel said, extending his hand.

Rod shook it. "Thank you, Colonel. It's good to see you. Smooth skies ahead?"

The Colonel smiled. "If not, we'll find some. If you'll excuse me, I need to finish the pre-flight checklist, but give a shout if you need anything."

"Thank you." He turned left and walked into Mac's office and cabin. About the time he had taken off his suit coat and draped it over the back of one of the sofas in the nose of the plane, he was joined by a steward and Jeffrey with his attaché case. "Thanks, Jeffrey." He took the case and set it on the floor.

"Would you like some breakfast, sir?" the young steward asked as he picked up Rod's coat to hang it in the closet.

Rod smiled at the extreme solicitousness that surrounded him whenever he was on Mackenzie's turf. "Just water, thank you. I ate earlier." He took a seat on the sofa, pulled out a couple of briefs, a legal pad and pen, and put on his reading glasses. Quickly he reviewed the notes he'd made on the flight from Atlanta. Cases like this one were his favorites, interesting and complex questions of law with constitutional implications. This one involved a very unique application of the RICO statute. At first glance he had questions whether the government had acted appropriately, but he had to give the young U.S. attorney points for his creativity. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed his clerks' office.

"Morning, Cam," he said. "… Yes, it's even cooler than in the movies; and no, joining the mile high club today is definitely not an option." Rod shook his head with a wry grin. "You are worse than Cooper." He really was like another son to Rod. He'd lost his own father to cancer at the age of ten and they'd grown extremely close over the past several years, beginning when Cam interned at the court after his first year of law school. "… I'll see what I can do. Is Mary around?" She was assisting him with this particular case. Though they looked nothing alike, in so many ways she reminded him of Mackenzie at that age—brilliant, intense, and softhearted with a sharp and self-effacing wit. "… I'm sorry. There's nothing worse than the stomach flu. She's taking the day off, right? … No, just some research on a case she's already up to speed on. Nothing that can't wait until next week. It's Friday. Go on home. Take care of your wife."

Rod put his phone away and got back to work, first making some detailed notes on the issue he wanted Mary to research next week and then re-reading all three briefs.

"Hey, Dad," Cooper said as he strolled into the cabin.

"Hey." Rod took off his reading glasses and looked at his watch. He was shocked at how fast the past ninety minutes had gone.

"Mackenzie said she'd be right up."

He nodded. "Did you get your paper done for your seminar?"

"Yep." He sat down on the opposite sofa. "You know T.R. was a total stud. Exploring the Amazon, leading the Rough Riders up San Juan Hill. I can't believe how much of the modern presidency originated with him. One thing I can't make up my mind about though was his decision to run as an independent in 1912. But what an unbelievable election that was—a hundred times crazier than even 2000."

"Wilson and Taft were the other candidates, right?"

"And Eugene Debs running as a socialist. It was arguably the first election where women really began to be active politically and to have an impact. And other than Grover Cleveland, it put a democrat in the White House for the first time in over fifty years. I read a great book on it. You'd like it."

Rod smiled.

"Have you talked to Bec? I can't seem to find her. She won't even text back but occasionally."

"Every few days—after I leave several messages and threaten to cut her off."

Cooper laughed. They knew he wasn't serious, but when he used those words it was understood that they better call him A.S.A.P.

"School and soccer. Those are the only things on her mind. And Jamison, I suppose. But she's really nervous about the under 21 try-outs and has been pushing herself hard."

"Oh, yeah. I almost forgot about that," Cooper acknowledged. "Are you planning to be there?"

Rod nodded. "At least part of the time." He sighed because he had no idea how he was going to fit it all in. The training camp was in Colorado Springs; and it would probably mean yet another week of not seeing Mackenzie. And if Bec made the team she would be traveling and playing in Europe for a month in the summer, including at the Nordic Cup, and he had to be there.

"The nerve of that man," Mac exclaimed, strolling into the cabin.

"Templeton?" Rod asked, putting his work away and turning his focus to her. She was wearing her navy Air Force One golf jacket, and she was steamed.

She nodded, hands on her hips. "Can you believe he had the gall to hold a press conference on my plane? Of course, I handled him, but still…."

"Politics is a contact sport, Madam President, wear a cup," Cooper mimicked in a perfect imitation of the Speaker. With an aristocratic hand gesture he continued, "Or whatever it is you women wear—a chest protector perhaps."

Mac bust up laughing and instantly relaxed as a wide smile lit up her face. She sank down on the sofa besides his father.

Rod smiled, too. He loved hearing her laugh. Junior always had that affect on people.

"Who told you about that?" Mac asked Cooper.

"You did, when we were playing catch one day."

She nodded and turned to the man at her side, whose long arm was draped around her shoulders. "Hey," she said softly as she scooted closer to him. "Hey," he replied in kind as his head bent towards her for what started out as a brief yet supremely satisfying kiss. It didn't end there, however. The days spent away from each other heightened their mutual desire and need. For a moment, they forgot they weren't alone as one kiss lead to another, and another, until the sound of a loud, exaggerated throat clearing broke them apart. Mac turned and found her aide watching them with a wide smirk.

"Need anything boss?" Cooper questioned. "Or can I go chill with everyone else? I mean nobody knows Dad's here and it might seem weird… besides the two of you…."

Again he smirked and Mac instantly felt her cheeks burn. Instinctively she tried to distance herself physically, but was held fast by his father. "Of course, you can go if that's what you want. Sorry about that," she added.

He shrugged and with a smile and genuine affection, replied, "Mackenzie, it's cool." He stood and walked towards the door.

"Cooper?" When he turned around, she said, "Will you let Colonel Davidson know that whenever he's ready, the word is given?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said while on his way out the door.

"I've really missed you the past few days," Mac said to Rod when the two of them were alone. "I hate it when we don't at least get to talk on the phone.

"I know," he agreed, taking her hand and tenderly kissing her palm. "But we'll likely have more weeks like this one as the campaign kicks into high gear."

She groaned. "Don't remind me."

"We'll get through it." He lightly caressed her cheekbone. "I did hear, however, that you did great in Junior's presidency class on Wednesday night."

"Did he tell you that he grilled me harder than any of his classmates?"

Rod chuckled. "Must have slipped his mind. I hope he wasn't out of line."

She shook her head. "It broke the ice for the rest of the class. They were intimidated at first, and he helped put everyone at ease—including me, frankly."

He brushed a few loose hairs back off her face. "He's always had that gift—being able to break tension or diffuse an awkward moment."

"Sounds like Cooper Young," Mac pointed out.

"Yeah, he was definitely named right." They began to taxi slowly towards the runway and their attention was briefly drawn outside through the windows behind them.

"He let me read his paper on Teddy Roosevelt," she said as she scooted in his arms for takeoff. "He did an amazing job. I can't believe the depth and breadth of his research, particularly when you consider he works a full time job."

"He's obsessively curious. You should have seen him as a little boy. He's never been satisfied with knowing a little about what fascinates him—he wants to know it all."

Mac laughed softly.

"What?"

She tilted her head until she could see his inquiring eyes. "Sounds just like you. He probably should have been named Roderic, too."

With a shake of his head, he leaned forwards and lightly rubbed their noses together. "No way. Unlike my parents, I would never do that to a poor, defenseless child. Besides it was right for him to be named for his grandfathers. There are no better men for him to model. Of course, your father was remarkable, too."

"Yes, he was," she agreed, resting her head against his collarbone at the base of his neck as they turned the corner onto the runway for takeoff. "I miss him every day." She sighed deeply.

"I know you do." He wrapped her tighter in his arms and kissed the top of her head.

"He had a lot of respect for you, too, you know; and respect didn't come easy with him." Again she leaned back to look into his face. "He would be so happy to have us together again." She sighed. "How could I have been so stupid?"

"You weren't the only one, kiddo," he told her as the big plane began lumbering down the long runway, increasing in speed and sound until conversation was momentarily impossible, although the resultant g-forces from the plane's acceleration certainly made kissing and cuddling more pleasurable.

Once the plane had leveled off slightly and the big engines had been cut back, he asked, "So how did you like being in the classroom again?"

She sat up to make conversation simpler. "They were bright, curious and asked some really important, challenging questions. But you know, I loved it. I could easily see myself teaching when this is finished."

"Hmm," he nodded thoughtfully.

"What are you thinking?"

"That it would bring us full-circle to where we were before, with you wanting to teach in the future… or be a judge."

"Yeah." She, too, turned thoughtful.

"You know, you could take a page out of Taft's book when you leave the White House."

"What do you mean?"

He smiled. "Get your successor to name you Chief Justice."

"What makes you think I'd want that?"

"Mackenzie…."

Their eyes locked and she conceded finally, "Okay, in the past being on the Court interested me—just like you. But that was before Bridges died. What about you? What if I work on my successor to appoint you instead?"

He shook his head. Insistently he replied, "Not a chance. No inside baseball. We've already had this discussion, remember?"

She studied him close, her brow furrowing in concentration. "Are you really content to remain on the circuit level for the next twenty years? You've earned so much more."

"Mackenzie," he warned again. "I love my work and my court. I don't need anything more from my career." He changed the subject. "Tell me, what was Cooper's imitation of Templeton about earlier?"

"A discussion the two of us had in the Oval Office around Thanksgiving. Trust me, you don't want to know the underlying particulars. But during the course of our discussion he threw that out. Can you believe it? He thinks he's so superior. Although, truthfully, he was probably just hoping to get a rise out me—which he never will."

"Never," he agreed. "So what did you say in response?"

"That he might want to put on a cup for what I was about to show him."

Rod laughed. "That's my girl." He leaned in and kissed her full on the mouth. Then she kissed him, and he kissed her again… until it became impossible to tell just who was kissing whom.

"I love you," she said, when they eventually remembered where they were, and that they could be interrupted without warning at any time. "I'm so glad you came."

"Me, too."

She sighed. "I probably should go spend some time with my guests." The dedication of the Bridges library in Florida was the first scheduled stop of the trip and she'd thought it wise to ask a few other invitees traveling from Washington to fly down with her. But unfortunately, combined with the campaign prep stuff she'd be forced to endure on tomorrow morning's flight to California, it meant that she'd have almost no time with him until Sunday's return flight. "I don't suppose you want to…."

"Yeah, I do."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah…. If it means more time with you."

In an instant she was on his lap, kissing him enthusiastically. "Thank you." She sashayed over to the phone as he playfully slapped her on the behind.

While Mac put on a fresh coat of lip-gloss and ran a brush through her hair, Rod put his reading glasses and work away and set his briefcase off to the side.

"Are you sure that you're ready for this?" she asked, walking into the cabin from the adjacent bathroom.

"Have to start somewhere, right? But I wouldn't mind a kiss for encouragement."

"You wouldn't, huh?" She grabbed him by the tie and he closed the gap between them.

"No, ma'am." His voice sounded husky. She always had that affect on him.

"I really like this tie by the way. Very collegiate—very Yale."

He chuckled. "Cooper gave it to me for Father's Day last year. It's his residential college tie—well, mine, too."

"And the rest of the Calloways from Gabriel on down, I bet."

"What can I say?"

She leaned up into him. "Very sexy," she whispered as her lips lightly brushed his.

"That's all I get?" he protested with a smile. He pressed their foreheads together. "I love you, Mackenzie, and I'm very proud of you—proud to be here with you."

"Madam President," Cooper announced from just inside the cabin.

"Break's over, boss. It's show time," Rod told her quietly.

"I can't wait until Sunday." She let her gaze linger on his for a moment and saw he felt the same. Then Mac turned and automatically put on her public smile. "Thanks, Cooper."

"Mr. President, Senator," she said. "I'm so glad you could accompany me. I know it would mean a lot to Teddy to have you there today." She warmly shook the older couples' hands. "It's been too long," she added to her predecessor.

"That it has, Madam President," William Jefferson Clinton replied.

Mac turned to his wife at his side. "I sincerely appreciate your work in getting the budget passed," she said to the Senator.

"We ended up with a good piece of legislation, I think. Now the focus can be on the upcoming election," Hillary Clinton answered.

"I think so, too," Mac agreed. "May I introduce you to my good friend, Judge Rod Calloway?"

Rod joined the group. "The Senator and I have met—indirectly at least. She had me on the ropes for days during the confirmation process."

The others laughed.

"It was only a matter of a few hours," Hillary insisted. "And as I recall, you breezed through those hearings—including my questioning."

"Well, I'm just grateful it was a one time thing."

"No higher aspirations?" Bill questioned.

Rod winked and held Mac's gaze for a long moment before replying, "Not any longer, Mr. President."

"That's not a look of friendship," Hillary pointed out. "That's a look of love."

"Guilty as charged, Senator." He again shared an intimate smile with Mackenzie, and reached for her hand.

"You've kept this relationship amazingly discreet. Good for you," Hillary said.

"How did the two of you meet?" Bill asked.

Mac and Rod looked at each other and began to laugh. "Believe it or not," she told them, "the same place the two of you did. Only I was a fool back then and let him get away. Luckily, fate has given us a second chance."

This time it was Bill and Hillary who looked at each other and smiled. "Thank heaven for second chances," Bill exclaimed.

"And that love casteth out all fear," Mac added, quoting from the New Testament. She gestured to the two sofas behind them. "Let's sit down and get better acquainted over lunch."

XXXXXXXXXX

**Saturday, April 30, 2016**

"Rod?" Cara Larkin called out from the back patio of her Newport Beach home Saturday afternoon.

"Yeah?" he yelled back to his sister-in-law.

"You better come inside."

Fear and dread cascaded over him. Without hesitation, he hauled himself out of the pool and sprinted up the hill to the house, dripping wet, leaving his brother-in-law, Jason, and his nieces behind. "What is it? Did something happen to Mackenzie or Cooper? Are they okay?" He was out of breath, mostly because his heart was pounding uncontrollably as he looked at his watch and desperately tried to recall Mac's afternoon schedule.

"They're fine, so far as I know." She touched his arm. "But apparently someone is threatening to blow up Air Force One."

"What?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

He quickly went into the family room, grabbed the remote, took the DVR off pause, and heard the anchor say, _"There is breaking news out of Los Angeles. We just learned that a Major Frank Terzano is threatening to blow up Air Force One unless he gets to speak directly to the President of the United States."_

Without waiting to hear more, he retrieved his phone from the guest room he was staying in and sent Cooper a text message. He returned to the family room where Cara continued to watch the television. "Anything new?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Not really. Just that the President finished her speech to the teachers union and is now at the Los Angeles Hilton for some fundraising events. Doesn't seem like anyone really knows what's going on. Apparently this Major Terzano though has a cell phone and seems to be the one who alerted the media. Did you get through to Cooper or the President?" she asked, gesturing to the phone in his hand.

"No," he replied, staring at his phone. He took a seat next to her. "I'm waiting for Cooper to text me back." He tried to listen calmly to what was being reported. However, within five minutes he was pacing the floor, alternatively staring at the television set and the phone in his hand.

"I should be there," he exclaimed to Cara after fifteen minutes of waiting.

"Why aren't you?" she asked.

He momentarily stopped pacing and looked at her. "It's complicated."

"You love her, don't you?"

He sighed and an unconscious smile lit up his face. "More than anything."

"So how complicated can it be? Isn't that the bottom line?"

He chuckled to himself. "Yeah, it is... or should be. Thanks for the reminder and for understanding."

"We're family. We want you to be—I want you to be—happy. You know it's what Lauren would want, too. Of course, I also want an invitation to the wedding and tickets to the Inauguration."

He laughed. "Wouldn't be the same without you there." His phone rang and he looked at the caller identification. "It's Mackenzie," he told her.

She nodded. "I'll go tell Jason what's going on."

"Thanks, Cara." He answered the phone. "Hey… Are you and Cooper all right?"

"We're fine," Mac assured him.

"What happened?"

"Honestly, I don't know. I swear I'm learning more from the media than I am my own people. So much for the might and power of our intelligence agencies."

"I should be there with you," he told her.

"I wish you were," she agreed. "But the place is crawling with press and campaign donors. No way we'd escape detection. If I thought you wouldn't later resent it, I'd say 'screw 'em.' But I don't want it to be that way. Besides my advisors have told me in no uncertain terms that I need to stick with my schedule."

"Sounds like good advice to me."

"Yeah, I know…. Hang on, apparently one of the news channels has the guy on the phone."

Rod looked up and saw the same breaking news banner she must have seen. He turned up the volume and silently he watched, phone still held to his ear.

"_We now appear to have Frank Terzano on the phone,"_ the female anchor said. _"Mr. Terzano, can you hear me?"_

"_Yes, ma'am. It's Major Terzano."_

"_Major, what is it you want?"_

"_Simple. I want to speak directly to the President."_

"_Are you threatening to blow up Air Force One and everyone on board?"_

"_I don't want to kill anyone. But I've tried and I've tried, and now they are going to listen. I served my country for years, and this is how they treat us? They're just going to let my wife die. She is down to ninety-seven pounds. I am not…."_

"_Mr. Terzano? Apparently we've lost him."_

"Did you catch that?" Mac asked him.

He again muted the volume on the television. "Yeah. What do you know about his wife?"

"Nothing," she replied. "But I'm certainly going to find out."

"What about a contingency plan to take him out?"

"Sharp shooters are in place. The Service says it's an easy shot, though he's probably wired and the whole thing could blow. Luckily, I suppose, it's just the plane."

"It's not just a plane, Mac. Forget the cost. It's a symbol. A symbol of the might and power of the presidency, and the United States of America."

"Yeah." She sighed. "I better go. Apparently there are hundreds of donors still waiting to shake my illustrious hand, and exchange money for favors. I feel like a prostitute."

He laughed. "It's the American way, honey. Find out about the wife. That's the only insight you have into this guy's state of mind."

"Yeah. I'll call you when I can."

Rod hung up the phone just as Cara returned to the house with Jason. Rod quickly caught them up on what he'd learned and then excused himself to take a quick shower. An hour later he'd begun pacing the room again in front of the television when Mac called. "Hey," he answered.

"You were right about the wife," she told him. "Apparently she has a rare form of cancer that only responds to a very expensive, experimental drug. He was run over by a tank a number of years ago and was disabled. But through years of hard work and intense therapy he was able to return to work, and so the VA cancelled his health insurance while his wife was in the hospital. The past three years he's written letters to everyone—representatives, senators, the secretary of Veteran's Affairs, even Templeton—but nothing has been done."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to talk to the man."

"Mac, do you think that's smart? What kind of message does that send? The policy of the United States has always been that we don't negotiate with terrorists. Have you thought this through?"

"Rod, the man is a citizen—a veteran who has been wronged by all of us in power. Of course, I've thought this through. I'm not about to give the order to have him shot—on television no less—without at least talking to him and trying to get him to see reason. I have no intention of negotiating with him. I do, however, intend to speak frankly with him about honor and duty, right and wrong."

He chuckled at her insight and her strength of character—her determination. "That's my girl."

"Say a prayer that it turns out all right?" she asked.

He nodded. "I will."

"I don't know when I'm going to be able to call again. We're way behind schedule. And whatever happens here is going to… well, I just don't know."

"Honey, we can wait. They can't." His voice was soft. "I'll be waiting for you tomorrow in San Diego. But if you need me—if you want me there…."

"I know." She sighed.

"I love you," he told her.

"Me, too."

XXXXXXXXXX

**Sunday, May 1, 2016**

As Mac climbed the stairs to board Air Force Once at shortly after noon, it hit her just how right Rod had been yesterday. It was far more than a plane; and personally, she would have been heartbroken had it been destroyed. "Afternoon, James," she greeted her pilot. "Everyone on board?"

"Yes, ma'am," Colonel Davidson replied.

She sighed. "Think you can find us a tail wind?"

"I'll certainly try."

"That's all I can ask." She turned to walk into her cabin.

"Ma'am?"

She stopped.

"You did very well yesterday."

She cocked her head thoughtfully. "We were mostly lucky. Of course, had anyone been on board, it would have been an entirely different scenario."

"Ma'am, we were lucky because you were smart… and tough. Made us all proud of our Commander-in-Chief." He saluted her.

"Thank you." Her voice was full of sincerity, and she looked him directly in the eye. The military didn't hand out compliments very frequently, which made the Colonel's words mean that much more to her. "I'm just grateful that in the final analysis, despite everything else, Major Terzano is still a man of honor."

"Yes, ma'am."

Mac smiled then walked left down the short hall to her cabin. She found Rod standing in front of her desk, gazing out the window, hands buried deep in his pockets. His suit pants had been replaced by jeans, and his dress shirt by a navy golf shirt. Rooms always seemed so much smaller when he was in them. She was a little surprised when he didn't sense her presence. She moved behind him and pressed her body against his, her hands splayed against his broad chest. "Hey," she whispered against his ear. In an instant he turned and imprisoned her in the fiercest embrace she'd ever known. He held her so tight that she literally had to make an effort to breathe. "Roderic, what is it? What's wrong?"

"I can't lose you again." His breathing was labored, his voice thick with raw emotion.

"Lose me? What…." Then it hit her. She leaned her head back. "Honey, you know I wasn't the target yesterday."

"You don't know that for certain. You easily could have been on that plane yesterday—and so could Cooper."

"The incident took place hours after we'd deplaned. You know that… Besides I don't believe he had any intention of doing anything really. His wife is dying. He's grieving and he's desperate for help. A cry for help, that's all it was."

"Mac, it was an act of terrorism aimed directly at you and the office you hold." He let go of her and began to pace the small office, impatiently running his fingers through his hair. "And what's to say someone else more devious won't try something similar tomorrow—some nut who honestly wants you dead. How in the hell did he have that kind of access anyway?"

"It's just one of those things." She shrugged. "All indications are that he's a decent man—an honorable man, made desperate because of a series of unfortunate circumstances."

"Does that matter?" he asked, hands now on his hips. "He's emotionally and psychologically unstable. How did he get so close to you? What does the Service say? The military?"

She shrugged again. "I'm not sure anybody knows anything yet. They'll figure it out. Come on. Let's go sit down in the other room and communicate over more important, more pleasurable subjects." She thought about their kisses during take off from Andrews on Friday morning and was desperate for more. It never ceased to amaze her just how pleasurable and exciting a simple kiss between them could be. Yet, witnessing his demeanor and the way he continued to pace back and forth, it was obvious passion was not on his mind.

"Mackenzie, your life was threatened. There is nothing more important… period. You cannot afford to take this lightly—I won't let you take this lightly." He pointed his finger at her. "You should be back in the conference room with the Service and military demanding answers." He pointed down the hall towards the center of the plane.

"Rod…." She exclaimed, in an attempt to get him to calm down. However, the phone at her desk rang and with great annoyance she turned and picked it up. "Yes," she said somewhat impatiently before taking a deep breath when she realized the purpose of the call. "… Thank you, Colonel. Let's go home." She turned back to Rod and sighed. She'd never seen him so agitated. But she had no intention of wasting any energy, or precious time with him, worrying about what could have happened. She walked around her desk and again pressed her body against his, stopping him in his tracks. "Come sit down for take off," she told him. She took his hand and led him to one of the sofas in the nose of the plane. He said nothing but she could tell he was still really worked up and on edge.

When they were seated, he started again. "Mac, this should not have happened. We were lucky this time. Next time we likely won't be. You know there are dangerous factions out there who will look to exploit the internal security weaknesses this incident exposed. Extremists and fundamentalists, who would like nothing more than to see you, as the first female president, dead. Changes must…."

She put her fingers lightly against his lips. "Honey, it's over. My people will figure it out so it can't happen again. I love how protective you are of me. But let's not spend what little time we have together worrying about some hypothetical future threat."

"Mac, it's not hypothetical. It's real. You've got to…."

She cut him off. "At the very least it can wait until tomorrow. Come on, Your Honor," she coaxed seductively, moving against him, "give the President a break. Let go of yesterday and kiss me." She ran her fingers slowly up his abdomen and chest and felt his body physically uncoil as his attention became unavoidably focused on her touch. She would win this battle. Something to keep in mind for the future, she realized. It wasn't exactly fair play but it was very effective. Besides politicians were supposed to be devious. The plane began to taxi towards the runway just as his mouth sought hers. Eagerly she responded to his passion—his deep emotion—until they were both physically spent and the plane was a thousand feet off the ground and climbing. She looked at him with a coy smile. "You know, before this trip I always hated take offs. They made me nervous. Not anymore." She suggestively raised her eyebrows.

"Is there a question in there, Madam?"

"So… I was wondering if it would also work for landings?" She was thrilled when he grinned—her favorite cocky grin—before he finally relaxed and gave up the fight.

"Only time will tell, Madam…. Only time will tell."


	33. The Course of True Love

"The course of true love never did run smooth." -Shakespeare, _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ (Act I, Scene 1)

**33. The Course of True Love**

**Friday, May 6, 2016**

**Greenwich, Connecticut**

"Nice catch, son," Will Calloway said. He held the large net as Rod landed a large striped bass on the Long Island Sound. "It's got to be a four-footer."

"Sure feels like it," Rod agreed, figuring the fish weighed approximately forty pounds. The size of the fish and their location immediately took him back to another time and he laughed.

"What?"

He looked at his Dad and smiled. "I was just remembering that day out here with Mackenzie when her fish got half-eaten by the biggest striper I've ever seen."

"How is she?" Will asked as they put the fish in a huge cooler.

"Increasingly busy. The campaign is really heating up. She was in Cleveland, Cincinnati and Columbus yesterday, Portland and Eugene today and Seattle tomorrow. She's trying to limit campaigning to the weekends, but I don't know how long she can keep that up."

"She handled the situation last weekend with Terzano beautifully."

"Yeah, she did." Rod shut the lid on the cooler and turned back to his father.

Will leaned against the side of the boat. "How on earth did something like that happen? How was he able to get so close?"

"I don't know…." He shook his head and sighed deeply. "Do you know what bothers me the most? There's nothing I can do. I'm completely powerless to protect her; and I can't get her to take the threat seriously or to demand answers—from anyone. She's assuming it will be handled. She won't even talk to me about it." He felt his frustration surface again. "Dad, I wanted to hold an Inquisition with the Secret Service and the joint chiefs…. We've got holes in our security procedures—just like 9-11. They will be exploited again. Only next time we won't be so lucky—she won't be so lucky…. And there's not a damn thing I can do about it. It scares the hell out of me." He sat down on the long bench running along the back of the boat and impatiently ran his fingers through his hair.

"I understand." Will's voice was sober, although a hint of a smile fleetingly played on his lips. "But you're not completely powerless. There is something you can do to change that…."

"Marriage?"

Will nodded. "Exactly."

"You don't think it's too soon?" Rod looked up at his father for direction, just as he'd done all his life.

Will sat down next to him. "No, I don't. Not for the two of you. It is where you're headed. There's never been any question about that, right?"

Just the thought of marriage to Mackenzie excited him. He longed to make love with her, to fall asleep with her in his arms, to wake up with her at his side. But there was so much to consider, so much still to work through. "I thought we'd talk about it after the election when things calm down."

"Are you secretly hoping she loses?"

"Dad…" he protested.

"It would make things much simpler for you."

"Much," Rod acknowledged with a smile. He had given the matter some thought. If Mac lost they could settle into a quiet life in Atlanta with regular long weekends at the beach house and lots of time out on the water. He'd continue at the court and she could write and teach. And it wouldn't disrupt the twins' lives. A big part of him longed for that life. But, on the other hand, he didn't want that for her—not now anyway. She deserved to create her own legacy and to be more than the president by default (her choice of words, not his). He sighed before answering further. "But tempting as that is, I want more for her. And there's nobody more capable of doing the job. It's her destiny."

"So why wait?"

"Really?"

Will nodded. "I know what it will mean for your life. But you love each other, and she needs you now. You said it yourself; the campaign is heating up—on top of the job itself, which is far more than any one person should have to tackle. It's exhausting. She shouldn't have to do it alone. You should be at her side."

"But that's just it, Dad. I can't really be there for her." This was the thing he had struggled with from the beginning of their new relationship. "I can't support her like she deserves to be supported—not without giving up my career. With the twins out of the house, I'm finally in a place when I can concentrate on my work. And I love it. I'm not ready to give it up, selfish as that is."

"Nobody," Will answered in reply, "could ever accuse you of being selfish. You've always put others first. Son, you, too, have earned the right to do the work you love. You know I had a really tough time with your choice to pursue the law, but it was the right choice."

"Thanks, Dad." Again Rod shook his head and sighed. "I'm just not sure I can give her what she needs and deserves without losing myself in the process."

Will smiled. "You're wrong. That's not what she needs or expects from you. She's brilliant and strong; and she's surrounded by advisers and operatives who are there for her politically. You better than anyone understand. She's also inundated by critics. What she needs is you: your unconditional love and support. And you need her. You've been alone for too long."

"I never thought I'd feel this way again," Rod acknowledged as he zipped up his jacket to ward of the increasing early evening wind chill. "But do you honestly think we can make it work this time?"

"Roderic, I know that I had doubts years ago about how the two of you would balance your relationship with your ambitions; and I was pretty tough on you. But there can be no doubt now. The two of you belong together. The twins are adults, and you do have quite a bit of flexibility in your work. You can read briefs and write decisions from anywhere."

He nodded. "What about Cooper and Rebecca? You know what this will do to their lives. How can I ask that of them?"

Will put a hand on his shoulder. "Because you've raised them right. They're smart and they're mature. Even more, they love you and want you to be happy. Cooper will take it in stride, just like he does with most everything in his life, and Becca…. It will be an adjustment for her. But you've earned the right to have a life of your own. It is time, son. Time for you and Mackenzie."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "I'll talk to both of them tomorrow. They don't get in until late tonight."

"Are you planning on the usual birthday ritual?"

He nodded. It was tradition in the Calloway family to celebrate birthdays not only with gifts but also with service to those who didn't have what they had. His parents had done it with him and his siblings, and each of them—except Christopher, of course—had continued it with their own children. Although their actual birthday wasn't until next week, they would celebrate it this weekend along with Nana's birthday and Mother's Day. Tomorrow they would spend the day together. They would go to breakfast before shopping for children's books, toys and games they'd deliver to the local women's shelter, and they'd spend the afternoon sailing with anyone in the extended Calloway family who wanted to go. The twins had plans with friends in New Haven tomorrow night. On Sunday the entire family would gather for a birthday-Mother's Day celebration. "I don't know if I've ever told you what a smart idea it was to make our birthdays more about giving than receiving."

Will smiled. "You can thank your mother for that…"

"Oh, I think it was a team effort," Rod pointed out. "I only hope I've been half the parent—half the father—that you've always been."

Will met and held eye contact with his son. "Your mother deserves most of the credit with you and your siblings, whereas you've largely had to do it alone. You've done so much more—sacrificed so much more—as a parent than was ever required of me. I couldn't be prouder of you… or of them."

"Thanks, Dad."

XXXXXXXXXX

**Saturday, May 7, 2016**

Late the following afternoon, Rod asked the twins to help him with the sailboat. They'd just returned from several hours with the Calloway family out on the Long Island Sound, and the rest of the family had returned to the house. After they got the boat secure, he said to them, "I know you have to leave for New Haven shortly. But there's something I want to talk to you about first. Okay?"

"Sure, Dad," Cooper said with a shrug.

Observing his daughter check her watch, Rod said to her, "It won't take long, Rebecca." Although he still wasn't certain what he should say or how he should begin.

The three of them walked across the dock to the outdoor seating area and fire pit located on the edge of the rocky shore and took off their jackets. Without the chill of the wind it was a warm spring evening.

"What's up, Dad?" Cooper asked.

"I wanted to tell you how proud I am of both of you, and how proud your mother would be, too."

"Dad," Becca said skeptically, "you didn't bring us over here for that… and you've been weird all day."

"I have not," he protested.

Becca rolled her eyes. "Dad…" she said emphatically.

Rod looked at each of them while searching for the right words. "You know I loved your mother, right? That I would give anything to have her here with us? That I would have given up my own life to have saved hers?"

"Yeah, Dad," they said simultaneously as they looked briefly at each other.

Though they'd heard similar sentiments from him often over the years, there was something different in his look and his voice. Becca could see anticipation in her twin's eyes. But all she felt was fear and dread, like she was losing her best friends.

"But she's not here," he continued. "Though I will always love her, I also love Mackenzie."

"Are you getting married? Is that it?" Cooper asked, the excitement in his voice apparent.

"I want to," he tentatively acknowledged.

"That's awesome! It's about time!"

"Cooper, you can't be serious?" Becca interrupted harshly. She turned to their father. "Dad, you can't marry her…."

"Bec, shut up!" Cooper told her.

"You shut up!" She refused to back down. "Don't you get it? If he marries her, our lives are over. Not to mention she almost got you and Dad killed."

"What are you talking about?"

"That's enough," Rod said loud enough to get both of their attentions.

"Dad…" Cooper protested while Becca stormed off. He began to go after her but was stopped by his father's hand on his shoulder.

"Look, son, I appreciate your support. But go inside. I want to talk to your sister."

"But Dad," he protested again, "she's just being a spoiled brat. You're not going to let…."

"I'll handle it. Go inside." His voice was firm.

"Yes, sir."

Rod sighed as he watched his son walk away. He wasn't surprised by his daughter's reaction. He had expected resistance, although its intensity had caught him off guard. It was times like this when he felt completely out of his league as a man. He understood Cooper, but half the time Becca was a complete mystery to him. He took a deep breath and followed her over to the edge of the dock, which ironically was also the place he'd frequently sought refuge from life's troubles. He sat down beside her, their legs dangling over the water. "Want to talk about it?" he asked gently after a few minutes of silence.

Becca shrugged but didn't look at him. "What does it matter what I say? You're just going to do it anyway. So what's the point?"

"Nothing's been decided yet. I haven't proposed."

"But you're going to," she insisted.

"I'd like to… Is that so bad?"

She faced him. "Why do you have to get married? Can't you just keep having a quiet affair?"

"We're not having an affair. I would never do that," he insisted somewhat impatiently.

"Oh, please!" She rolled her eyes. "I know you're sleeping with her."

"Not that it's any of your business, but no, I'm not."

"Come on, Dad…."

"I'm not a hypocrite, Bec."

"Dad, that's crazy." He couldn't be serious, could he? "Are you serious?" she asked rhetorically when he said nothing and his expression remained unchanged. "No wonder you're frustrated," she added with a smirk.

He smiled. "Very funny, young lady."

"Why now, Dad? Mom's been gone a long time. Women have thrown themselves at you for years. At school and church—everywhere, there are always women drooling all over you."

"That's ridiculous," he protested, clearly embarrassed by her assertion.

"It's not, Dad. It's the truth. You're rich and not too bad looking… for an old guy, I mean."

"Thanks a lot."

"But you've never shown any interest in any of them. I remember you dating someone once. But that was years ago and you never even introduced us to her. Now when you take a date somewhere, it's for appearance or convenience and not because you enjoy it. So why her?"

He shrugged. "I could never put words to why, just like I could never sufficiently describe how it was with your mother. Love just is, honey. I think you can understand."

"Yeah," she conceded. "But this isn't just about you."

"I know it's not," he insisted. "That's why we're having this conversation. I thought you liked her."

"What does that have to do with it? She's the President of the United States. I don't want to be like her. I don't want to be a public figure. I don't want bodyguards, and to be hounded by journalists or followed by paparazzi."

"It won't be that bad, Bec. There are things we can do to protect you and preserve your privacy."

"Dad, it is that bad. If you marry her, Cooper and I get screwed. I just want to live my own life, in my own way."

"That's it? You won't even consider it… give it a try."

"Dad, there is no try. Once your relationship is out in the open, my life is over. There is no going back."

"Will you at least think about it? We'll make it as easy on you as possible."

"What's there to think about? Dad, it's not about getting used to it… it is or it isn't. So if you love me like you claim you do, don't do this. Please?" she begged. "I just want my life."

"Okay. I get it." He sighed deeply. There was nothing she'd said that he hadn't told himself a hundred times. He couldn't blame her for feeling that way. "We're a team: You, me and Cooper. We always have been and always will be. That will not change… ever. I won't do this without your blessing."

She bent her head. "I'm sorry. But I just can't…."

Rod forced a smile and stroked her cheek. "It's okay. I do understand. It's just the way it has to be. Go get ready for tonight."

"Cooper's going to hate me."

He kissed her forehead. "I'll handle your brother. I promise you he won't say a word. Besides, he doesn't hold grudges… unlike you," he teased.

"Ha ha," she said with a playful punch to his shoulder.

He hugged her against his side. "Have fun tonight, okay? You only turn twenty once."

She nodded before standing to walk back to the house.

"Bec?"

She turned around.

"I love you."

She smiled. "Love you, too, Dad."

He watched her walk away and then turned back to the sea, a million conflicting emotions warring in his soul.

XXXXXXXXXX

**Sunday, May 8, 2016**

**Washington, D.C.**

Mac stepped outside the East Wing to meet Rod, thrilled that they'd have at least a few hours together. The night was warm and the air was already beginning to grow thick with the humidity that would shortly blanket the city. At the edge of the small circular driveway she saw him. He smiled and her feelings about the day changed one hundred and eighty degrees. He was her calm in the middle of life's storms.

"Hey," she greeted him as they came together. He drew her into his arms and pressed his mouth to hers, claiming her with a combination of passion and tender possessiveness that thrilled and renewed her. She tilted her head and leaned against him, her arms resting on his shoulders, and matched him move for move, touch for touch. "It feels like it's been forever, doesn't it?" she whispered into his ear as afterwards he embraced her.

"Forever and a day," he added as he continued to hold her close, her head tucked under his chin, their bodies pressed tightly together.

Eventually she lifted her head and slipped her arms around his neck. "Should we go inside?"

"Okay if we take a walk first?"

"I'd like that," she readily agreed, brushing her lips against his once more. She, too, felt restless. The flight from Seattle had seen interminable. In truth, the entire week had been interminable. He took her hand and together they cut across the stone path on the south side of the East Wing to the wide driveway encircling the top portion of the vast South Lawn.

"It really is an amazing sight," Rod said as the Residence came into full view. It was lit up magnificently by large white floodlights located on either side of the Portico.

"I love it. I'm not ready to give this up," she admitted. He gave her hand a little squeeze. She sighed. "But no matter how hard I work, how hard I try, I'm still running only slightly ahead of Stapleton and trail Templeton by ten points."

"You're not going to back off, are you?"

She shook her head. "I can't. I have to give it everything I have. Even if it's not enough."

He could hear the weariness in her voice. "It's a lonely road though, isn't it?"

She stopped walking and looked at him. "Yes, it is. But you make it infinitely better."

He slid his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his side as they continued their leisurely stroll around the driveway. He asked himself how long she would feel that way once she knew their relationship couldn't progress? That he couldn't marry her? Couldn't protect her? How could he do that to her? Deprive her of the ability to be with someone who could give her what she needed and deserved?

"How was the big birthday celebration? Is Rebecca's arm healing okay?" she asked. She got no reply. "Rod?" Still no reply. She caressed his back. "Roderic?"

He turned his head. "Huh?"

She smiled. "How was your weekend?" she repeated.

"Fine."

"Just fine?" she teased. "Sounds more like a trip to the dentist."

He reached for her. "It was much more eventful and chaotic than that mundane errand."

Their eyes locked and instantly she was back in his arms. However, she felt something different in his kiss, as if he was trying to memorize the shape and feel of her lips and mouth. Afterwards, he gently rested his forehead against hers afterwards.

"I love you, Mackenzie. Never forget that's true."

"Me, too," she whispered back. But his words left her disquieted. Something wasn't right.

Again he took her hand and they continued their walk. They talked about the past week and she sought his advice on various issues, including the upcoming confirmation hearings for Judge Durham. They talked about family and he told her about the most recent antics of the younger Calloway grandchildren. She realized again how lucky he was to have siblings, brothers-in-law, nieces and nephews. They went inside and over dinner continued to catch up. But she couldn't shake the feeling that something was bothering him. He was unusually quiet and she'd been forced to take charge of their conversation. More pointedly, the light and enthusiasm seemed to have faded from his eyes; and he hardly ate a thing. Finally she put down her fork and took his hand across the table. "Honey, what's bothering you?"

"Huh?" He looked up from his plate.

Mac couldn't help but smile. He was so cute when he was distracted. "Roderic…."

"I'm sorry." He put down his fork and traced a finger along the side of her face—her beautiful face.

"What is it?" she asked.

He struggled to find his voice. "Mackenzie, I…."

The anguish written on his face shook her. "This is something big, isn't it?"

He nodded.

"Whatever it is, we can get through it together," she said, giving his hand a loving squeeze.

He shook his head. "That's just it. We can't."

Suddenly she felt cold all over.

"I talked to the twins about us getting married."

"You did?" She was surprised. They hadn't even discussed marriage between themselves. For a brief moment she was blissfully happy. Then reality hit her in the face. "They hated the idea, didn't they?"

"Oh, Cooper thought it would be awesome," he told her with a sardonic smile. "He suggested we call up the Chief Justice and do it immediately."

Again she was overcome with momentary happiness and she smiled. She couldn't help herself, although she knew what was coming. "So Becca…."

He nodded. "So Becca."

"What can I do?"

He briefly closed his eyes and pursed his lips. How was he going to get through this? He sighed deeply, and then looked at her. "That's just it. There's nothing either of us can do. She's just not ready for us or for all this. She doesn't want to have her life disrupted or lose her privacy. And she's afraid. What happened with Terzano really shook her up. She's afraid for my safety. Hell, Mac, it shook me up. Not for me, but for you and Cooper."

She brushed the hair back from his forehead. "I guess I've just learned to disassociate, to cast the fear aside."

"You have to," he assured her.

"We can protect her privacy. I can make her off-limits to the press. Neither of us would ever make her do anything in public."

"I told her all that," he replied. "She just isn't ready, Mac. And I can't force her. Not when our marriage would affect her like it would. Cooper can handle it, she can't. She's far more sensitive, and much more stubborn."

"Like father, like daughter?" she teased, one eyebrow raised.

He raised an eyebrow of his own, one side of his mouth turning up into a half smile. "I hope not. Truthfully, I don't know where she got it. She was born headstrong, I'm afraid. And it's virtually impossible to change her mind."

"So we go on like we have. We don't have to be in a hurry," she suggested. "Didn't a wise man once tell me, 'This is a relationship, not a race?"

"But he didn't count on falling in love with the President of the United States or dealing with an immovable object for a daughter."

She laughed. "Seriously, honey, we don't have to rush anything. I'll wait as long as it takes."

"Oh, Mackenzie," he said with a sigh, "I wish we could. But we can't. It just won't work."

"What are you saying?"

"Too many people know about us—including Templeton. Already there's been gossip. It's going to get out, and that's no different for my kids lives than if we were to get married."

"We can lay low, be careful and discreet," she assured him. "I'll start finding dates to use as escorts at public events. I bet if we just give Becca some time to adjust... Besides, I'll likely lose the election."

"You don't understand, Mac. I want you so much. I don't think I can go on like this indefinitely. And that's what we're talking about. She's not going to change her mind and you are going to win. But more than any of that, I can't do this to you. I can't put your life on hold. You deserve someone who can love you and who can stand by your side. I can't do that…. I'll never be able to do that." He shook his head and took a ragged breath. "And that's why I have to let you go, give you the freedom to find someone who can give you everything you deserve."

"You can't mean that…." she said in disbelief.

He moved his chair closer so that their knees touched and gently cupped her face with his hands. "I have to," he told her. "I love you too much to condemn you to a relationship that can never progress. You deserve more than a half-life, and that's all you've got with me. I can't do that to you. I won't do that to you." There was resolve in his voice but finding it impossible not to touch her, he caressed her face with the back of his hand.

Desperate to keep him close, she covered his hand with her own. "Don't you know? You are the only man I want in my life. The only man I've ever wanted."

He took her hand and held it between his own hands. "You have to move on, Mac. I'm not what you need. I can never be what you need. She's not going to give in, and she has to come first. I'll never get over losing you again. But I have to let you go. It's the only way I can honor you both."

Mac shut her eyes to keep her emotions at bay. There was nothing she could say to change his mind.

"I'm so sorry." He kissed her forehead. "It's all my fault. I should have seen what would happen. I never should have let you…."

She shook her head. Looking at him with tears in her eyes, she said, "Don't say that…. You're everything to me. I wouldn't trade our time together for anything in the world."

"Promise me you'll move on."

"I can't." She shook her head again more fervently.

"Mackenzie, you have to," he insisted. "Promise me."

The agony that permeated his eyes shattered what was left of her heart. "I'll try," she whispered. "I'll try."

"Thank you," he said, his voice virtually incapable of audible sound and his eyes filled with tears. He pressed his forehead against hers and said, "Take care of yourself and my son. And never forget how much I love you."

"I love you, too," she whispered as he walked out the door.


	34. No Joy in Mudville

**34. No Joy in Mudville**

**Monday, May 16, 2016**

**Washington, D.C.**

With a heavy heart, Mac stared out the window of her limousine across the vastness of Arlington National Cemetery, a hauntingly beautiful place. The sun was beginning to rise in the east, and dew glimmered on the grass between the rows and rows of mostly identical tombstones. Today she wasn't here as America's Commander in Chief—that would come again in another couple of weeks. Today she was simply a soldier's daughter here to pay tribute to him. She'd come early to avoid the preying eyes of the press. This was not a scheduled event. Except for her Secret Service detail, she was alone. Involuntarily she shivered as she stepped from the car and approached her father's headstone. She bent down and lay a single rose before it before tracing her fingers along the letters engraved in the cold marble: _Admiral Michael James Allen, United States Navy, October 14, 1940-May 16, 2014_.

"Oh, Dad," she whispered aloud. "You were so right. I'm sorry I was angry with you and that I didn't understand what you were trying to tell me. How could I have been so blind? I wish you were here. I need your wisdom." The void in her heart overwhelmed her like a dark, starless night in the wilderness. She closed her eyes as she fought to keep her emotions in check while desperately hoping to keep the tears she felt from spilling down her face. After a time she returned her focus to the marble and continued, "I love him, Dad. You saw it long before I did." She stood and brushed back the hair that had blown across her face. Folding her arms against the morning chill, she continued, "Nothing matters without him, and the twins. I love them, too. You'd get the biggest kick out of Cooper. He's like his father and godfather all wrapped into one: So smart, so loving, and so fun. And Becca… I want to be angry with her, but I can't. In her shoes, I'd feel just like she does. I don't know how to describe her. Mom says she's a lot like me—which is crazy, I know." She sighed. "I don't know what to do. It can't be over. Not after all we've been through."

The silence around her grew deafening. However, she was loathe to leave this place and begin another day—a day without hope and filled with an intense longing she hadn't known could exist. A day where she would see more pleading and confusion in Cooper's young face, and she would have no answers for him. They needed to talk. She just didn't know what to say. She looked up the hill and saw the Tomb of the Unknowns. Glancing at her watch, she began walking up the hill. The guard at the Tomb would be changing in a few minutes and she could make it if she hurried. There was no one around. The entire place had been sealed off. Nobody would be inconvenienced by her presence at this early hour.

When she got to the top of the hill she walked over to the steps by the Tomb at the base of the large marble Memorial Amphitheater, the place where in a few weeks she would give her Memorial Day speech. To keep the morning sun out of her eyes, she dawned her sunglasses and sat on the steps off to the side of the Tomb.

The silent and exacting movements of the 3rd Infantry Sentinel became hypnotic as he took 21-steps down the carpet in front of the Tomb and then turned sharply and marched 21-steps in the opposite direction, repeating this exercise over and over again. She wondered in amusement if he even knew she—his commander-in-chief—was there. His was a lonely job, made even more so by the stillness of the early day. She understood loneliness; and had come to accept the inevitable isolation of her office. But never had she felt so alone, or so empty. She hadn't told anyone it was over with Rod—not even her mother. How could she explain the unexplainable? Or lay blame where there was no culpability? Besides it was all she could do just to get through the days.

The nights, however, were unbearable. The dreams that so gently rocked her to sleep the past few months had been swallowed by the void and darkness.

She heard footsteps to her left and turned. "How did they know?" she said softly. But as she looked closer at their countenances, she knew. She rose and went to them. "He called you, didn't he?"

Cooper Young nodded and kissed her on the cheek. "He knew what today would be for you. He didn't want you to be alone, especially with your mother away on that cruise. So I conspired with Carl."

"You've been avoiding my calls, kid," Carl interjected. "So I did the only thing I could and went around you. Sue sends her love, by the way."

"So does Kim."

She swallowed hard to keep a grip on her emotions. "I can run but I can't hide, huh?"

"You got it," Carl agreed. "But you look like hell."

"Is that any way to talk to your boss?"

"When you go back as far as we do? Absolutely."

She nodded before turning to his co-conspirator. "How is he?" she asked Cooper.

"Terrible. Kim and I went down there this weekend over his objection. Mac, he's trying to put on a happy face but he's completely hollowed out."

"You know this wasn't me, right? I told him I'd wait. He's the one. He's convinced…."

He finished her thought. "That you'd be better off without him and that the right thing—the only honorable thing—is to let you go."

Hearing those words again broke the emotional dam and in an instant she felt the tears she'd been fighting all week sting her eyes. Quickly she wiped them away. "I just can't believe that we've come this far only to have it end like this…. But I'm at a total loss about how to change things."

"My goddaughter can be a tough nut to crack—just like someone else I know," Cooper said affectionately, handing her a hankerchief.

"I'm sure you're talking about her father," Mac joked as she accepted it and continued to deal with those dreaded tears.

"Yeah, because you don't know the meaning of the word stubborn," he teased back. He put his arm around her. "Let's go inside the Amphitheater and sit down, Madam President. Maybe I can help."

XXXXXXXXXX

**Tuesday, May 17, 2016**

The following afternoon Mac sighed heavily as she left the Blue Room. She'd spent the last hour of a very long day posing for photographs with the NCAA championship teams for Fall and Winter sports at various spots in the Residence and around the grounds. She was so tired of putting on a happy face, she wanted to scream; and she was sick to death of having her picture taken. The only saving grace was meeting Jamison Kennedy and the rest of his Duke teammates. He seemed like a terrific young man. "Is that the last one?" she asked Cooper, who as usual, was near her side.

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

"Anything else on the schedule before tonight's speech?" She asked. She prayed not. Her concentration was shot. She needed to recharge; and she needed some time to process her conversation with big Cooper and Carl yesterday.

"No, ma'am."

"Good. I'll see you tonight." She headed across the Entrance Hall to the Grand Staircase.

"Ma'am, can I….?"

She turned around. Again she saw the questions in his eyes and heard the pleading in his voice. She couldn't bear to see him struggle. No matter what the future held, in her soul, he was her son; and she couldn't let what happened hurt him, too. Not anymore. It was time they talked. "Did I forget something?" she asked gently, trying to draw him out.

"No ma'am, it's just…" he began timidly while looking mostly at his shoes. "Well, I was wondering…."

"Junior…." She paused until he looked at her. "Come upstairs and we'll talk."

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Once they were seated comfortably in the Yellow Room, she asked, "Do you want to tell me what's bothering you?" She wouldn't presume to know what he was thinking or feeling.

"Well, it's…. I mean…."

"Cooper, in spite of everything, you do still like working for me, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am. You know I do."

"Good," she assured him. "Because I don't want anyone else but you."

"Thank you, ma'am."

There was a measure of relief in his voice but not in his eyes. She went and joined him on the sofa. "How about we forget about the 'ma'am' business and just be ourselves. Okay?"

"Thanks, Mackenzie," he replied with a grateful smile.

She returned his smile. She loved that to him—as with his father—she was instinctively "Mackenzie." "I think it's time we talked about what's happened, don't you?" Her tone was warm and empathetic.

He nodded. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything you want."

"Do you still love my Dad?"

"More than anything," she assured him, her voice unsteady.

"I wish you were getting married."

Rod had told her that he approved of marriage between them, but his comment surprised her nonetheless. "You really wouldn't mind it? Having a stepmother? Dealing with all the hassle, the Secret Service… well, everything?"

"You make him happy." He shrugged. "I'd get used to it. I mean it's a total pain. But it's not forever."

"Probably less than a year."

"No way!" He shook his head. "Eight years. You're going to win by a landslide. Templeton's going down hard."

She laughed briefly. "We'll see."

"Have you talked to Dad?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Are you mad at him?"

"No," she assured him again.

"I don't get it. How he could let Bec get away with…."

His voice trailed off. She rested a hand on his knee. "He did what he felt was right. I can't be angry with him."

"Then why haven't you talked to him? You are still friends, right?"

"Because he felt a clean break would be best for all of us. He doesn't think Becca will ever change her mind, and he wants me to move on and find someone else."

"You're not going to, are you? I would understand if you did, it's just…."

"Cooper, there is no one else for me. There never has been. Breaking up with him in law school was the biggest mistake of my life. I'm very glad he moved on, fell in love with your mother and had you and your sister. But for me, he is the love of my life. If I can't be with him, I won't be with anyone. I've learned that much about myself. But regardless of whether we are together or not, you are very special to me. That will never change."

"Thanks. You're pretty cool, too."

She smiled. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." He shrugged.

"How is he?"

"All he does is work. Doesn't matter what time I call, early in the morning or late at night, he's working. Grandmother—Anne—is worried about him. So is Nana. But he won't talk to anyone. Can't you talk to him, please?" he begged.

"I can't. He's doing what he believes is right as a father. Being a good parent to you and Becca is what's most important to him, and it's one of the things I love most about him."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she assured him. "It's not your fault. It's not Becca's fault either. If I were in her situation, I'm sure that I'd feel the exact same way."

"I guess," he replied, unconvinced.

"So unless she changes her mind about me, I'm afraid this is how it will be."

"I hate it," he told her. "She won't listen to me—she's not listening to anyone. She's my best friend, but how can she do that…."

"It's tough being stuck in the middle, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he agreed with a sigh. "And Dad won't say anything to her. He could make her listen. If it were me who was acting like this, he'd never put up with it. He'd tell me to man up and get over myself. But she's…."

Mac chuckled. "His little girl. My father was the same with me."

"I think he feels guilty that Mom wasn't around for her so she's more spoiled."

Mac chuckled. "That's pretty normal. If it were your Mom instead, you'd be the spoiled one."

"I guess so," he agreed. "But it's not right. Dad's miserable. I don't even think Becca's happy. They're not talking—not really. It's almost like we're not a family any more."

And that, Mac thought, was the most tragic thing of all. Since her conversation with Cooper and Carl yesterday, she'd been at a crossroads, conflicted over where to go. Not anymore. Her path was now clear. "I have an idea," she told him. "But I'm going to need your help. Now, if you don't want to, I completely understand. I want to talk with your sister."

"Seriously?" he asked in disbelief.

She nodded.

"How? She won't come here."

"She doesn't have to come. I'll find a reason to visit North Carolina. Can you get her to my suite or somewhere we can talk in private?"

"I'll try. You know how she is. The simile 'like a brick wall' was invented for her," he reminded her. "What are you going to say? You're not angry, right?"

"No," she assured him. "All I want is for all of us to be happy… and together. I just want her to know how I feel about your Dad, and both of you, and how important all of you are to me. The rest is up to her."

"I'll kidnap her if I have to. I can get Jamison to help."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," he agreed. "She'll be furious with us, but tough."

Mac smiled.

"She leaves for Colorado Springs on Sunday though for the under-21 national team. And if she makes the team, she'll be gone most of the summer."

Mac pondered this news briefly and tried to recall her upcoming schedule. "Then I guess we better get to work. The Secret Service will throw a fit, but tough. I'm the President, right?"

He laughed. "Yes, ma'am. You don't want anyone else to know though, right?"

"Definitely," she smiled, feeling like the heavy boulder pressing against her heart the past ten days had been lifted enough for her to breathe. "We'll call it Operation Breach."

"Breach?" he questioned.

"Shakespeare. _Henry V_," she hinted, one brow raised suggestively. "Come on, Junior. You've got to know this word play."

"Oh… that breach," he replied, his face lit up with his father's cocky grin. "_Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more_…"

"_Or close up the wall with our English Dead!_"

He finished, "_Then imitate the action of the tiger: Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood_."


	35. Unto the Breach

**35. Unto the Breach**

**Friday, May 20, 2016**

**Chapel Hill-Raleigh, North Carolina**

"Great speech, ma'am," Cooper said when they were settled in the limousine after President Allen's delivery of the commencement address at the University of North Carolina. It was Friday evening and other than her security detail, they were the only ones in the car for the short drive between Chapel Hill and Raleigh. She hadn't wanted her usual posse accompanying her on this trip where the political was a disguise for the personal.

"Good thing we already had a few of these talks prepared and on ice," Mac told him. "Took a lot of the stress out of it—especially on such short notice."

He grinned. "Too bad President Clinton got laryngitis and couldn't give the speech."

"Such a shame," Mac agreed, smiling back at him. "Isn't it lucky we were able to rearrange the schedule to fill in? Although the rest of the weekend will be twice as busy."

"I can't believe you pulled all this off since Tuesday."

"We got a few lucky breaks." With a sparkle in her brown eyes she added, "Of course, it helps to have friends in high places. How about you? Are you ready for tonight?"

"Yeah."

"Are we still set for 7:30?"

He nodded.

She looked closer at him. "I've put you in a bad spot. You don't have to do this—or I don't, and you can just enjoy the evening with Becca and Jamison."

"I know," he acknowledged. "I want to do it."

"You're sure?" she asked again.

"Yeah," he agreed. "She'll be pissed, but we have to try. Dad's always put us first. Growing up, I always thought he was totally happy and didn't need anyone but us." He shook his head. "But he wasn't. You make him happy like nobody else can."

"Thank you, Cooper." Again she was reminded how Jim's initial assessment of his unusual maturity had been proven correct over and over again. His continuing support and approval strengthened her own resolve to move forward with tonight, when in reality, she was terrified. "Do you know what happened on the second luckiest day of my life?" she asked him, her voice still thick with emotion.

"Bridges died?" he innocently guessed.

She laughingly shook her head. "Nope. You walked into my office."

"Yeah right!" he exclaimed with a smirk.

"I mean it," she informed him. "You were such a surprise. Completely out of the blue—just like your Dad on the day we met all those years ago. But I'm grateful every day that…." The ringing of the telephone interrupted them. Cooper answered it before handing it to her.

"It's Mr. Gardner," he told her.

"What is it, Jim?" she asked her chief of staff. "… You've got to be kidding. I want him in my office tomorrow night…. You're right. Monday morning then." She ended the call and handed him back the phone.

"Hmph face. This is bad," Cooper muttered as he returned the phone to his pocket.

"What do you mean?"

"Did I say that out loud?" he asked with a red face. "Sorry, ma'am."

"Hmph face?" she questioned, a smile curving her lips.

"It's what Dad calls your scowl," he clarified with a cheeky grin.

"I see." The mention of Rod and the reminder of the tender intimacy in his ever gentle teasing made her, too, begin to blush. So she changed the subject. "Jim just got a call from Vice President Keaton saying he needs to resign."

"Are you serious?" Cooper shook his head in disbelief. "The election is less than six months away. He can't resign."

"I know." Mac nodded in agreement, the scowl returning to her face.

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"I don't know," she admitted honestly. The thought of trying to get a new VPOTUS confirmed by both houses of Congress at this time was unimaginable, and it was the last distraction she needed tonight. She sighed hard. "There's nothing we can do about it tonight. But next week's schedule may have to be rearranged."

"Yes, ma'am."

She smiled wistfully as he took out his smart phone to write himself a reminder to look at the schedule first thing Monday morning. It was obviously a habit he'd learned from his father. Was she doing the right thing? So much was at stake for all of them—not the least of which was the relationship between brother and sister, a relationship that was now fractured because of her. "Cooper?"

He stopped writing and looked up.

"Don't give Rebecca a hard time tonight, or put any pressure on her afterwards. Got it?"

He groaned. "Now where's the fun in that?"

"Junior…." She warned.

"I'm only kidding. You're worse than Dad."

She laughed, tension broken. "Thanks," she told him.

"_Once more unto the breach_," he reminded her.

"_Or close up the wall with our English dead!_"

XXXXXXXXXX

Mac stared out the window in the far corner of the sitting room of the presidential suite of the Raleigh Marriott Hotel. Rebecca and Jamison were making their way up from the lobby. There were no agents posted inside the suite and she'd asked that they be invisible while Rebecca and Jamison came up so as not to scare them off.

She'd imagined this conversation countless times since Tuesday evening, just as she'd replayed her conversation with Carl and big Cooper time and again. But in the end, she'd realized that it all came down to what any meaningful exchange relied upon: sincerity, and a willingness to first seek to understand rather than to be understood.

She was grateful she wouldn't be meeting Jamison for the first time tonight. Fate had truly intervened earlier in the week. Like Cooper, Jamison seemed outgoing and had a calm, mature demeanor, unusual to a nineteen year-old boy. He was long and lanky like Rod; and he'd inherited his English father's fairer skin and his African-American mother's dark hair and eyes.

"Coop!" Becca exclaimed in surprise when he opened the door.

"Hi, sis," he replied, giving her a hug. He stuck out his hand to Jamison. "Hey, Jay."

"What are you doing here?" she asked him.

"Work. I wanted to surprise you." He eagerly stepped back to let them into the suite.

Mac stepped forward a few steps to greet them. They made a striking pair. "Hello, Rebecca, Jamison." She watched as Becca's expression transformed from shock to icy aloofness.

Becca angrily turned on her brother. "You set me up!" Without waiting for a reply she set her sights on Jamison. Mac could hear the betrayal and confusion in her voice as she said to him, "How could you do this to me?"

Jamison tried to put his arm around her shoulder but she moved away. "Nobody set you up, Rebecca. Cooper was coming down and wanted to see you. I thought it would be fun."

"It's just dinner and hanging out, Bec," Cooper added. "I wanted to see you, but you've been avoiding me."

Still seething she gestured towards Mac, who remained standing a distance away. "Oh, yeah? Then what is she doing here?"

Closing the distance between them, Mac answered the question. "I asked to be here, Rebecca. I hoped you and I could spend a few minutes together before the three of you go out for the evening."

This time Jamison was successful in placing a supportive hand on her shoulder. He gave her a little squeeze. "I think it's a good idea," he told her.

"You can't be serious?" She turned and looked up at him in disbelief. She was tall but Jamison still had a good eight inches on her.

"Yeah, I am," he said.

"It's no big thing, Bec," Cooper said.

"Not to you it isn't," she replied coldly. "She's all you talk about, all you care about anymore. She's got you brainwashed… You and Dad. It's pathetic and I want nothing…."

Inwardly, Mac winced. Rebecca's resentments against her ran far deeper than the combination of her lifestyle and job. They were personal.

"That is crap, Bec," Cooper practically shouted. "How can you be so selfi…"

"Cooper," Mac interrupted authoritatively, regaining her bearings. It was time for her to take over. Immediately he backed down. As their eyes locked, she gestured with her head towards an adjacent room with two overstuffed chairs and a large plasma television. "Don't the NBA playoffs start tonight? Why don't you and Jamison go check it out and give Rebecca and me a few minutes?"

He nodded. "Come on, Jay."

Jamison looked anxiously at Rebecca. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

She looked away. "Just go."

He shrugged and followed Cooper into the next room.

After the door was shut and they were alone, Mac sat down on one of the sofas and said, "Please sit down, Rebecca."

Haughtily she replied, "Are you going to have the Secret Service arrest me? Or reopen Guantanamo Bay and declare me an enemy combatant?"

Leaning back Mac casually tossed out, "Have you committed treason?"

"Cooper thinks I have." Reluctantly she sat down on the adjacent love seat, but her body language suggested that she'd rather be anywhere else.

However, Mac saw through her sarcasm to the loneliness it masked. "It's good then that he's not the president. Besides, it's not my style. I would like to talk with you though, if that's okay."

"About Dad?" Becca asked.

"Indirectly," Mac acknowledged.

"Indirectly? Oh please, Madam President!" Becca threw back, rolling her eyes. "This is all about him. Why else would I be here?"

"Rebecca, believe it or not, I do understand how you feel and where you're coming from. But I'd like for us to talk."

"What's there to say?" she scoffed.

"Well, for starters, I'm hoping you'll tell me if it's my job that truly is making you feel the way you do, or if that's just an excuse and your problem is with me personally."

Becca folded her arms tight against her chest. "Does it matter?"

Mac took a breath. Big Cooper had said his goddaughter could be a tough nut to crack. However, she sensed it was less about stubbornness and more about avoiding vulnerability, which was something she understood well. "I think it does."

"If you're going to lecture me about what a bad and selfish person I am, can we please just get it over with?"

Mac brought one hand up and placed an index finger against the side of her temple. Elbow resting on the arm of the sofa, she asked rhetorically, "Do you need a lecture?"

Her reply clearly caught Becca off guard. After a moment of silence, she walked over to the desk in the corner of the room. She'd thought long and hard about this conversation, and desperately hoped it wouldn't come to this. But what choice did she have? Sitting down, she picked up a piece of presidential stationary and hastily wrote a letter. Returning she said, "If the problem is my job, I have a solution." She handed Rebecca the letter, which she'd sealed in an envelope with "The White House, Washington D.C. 20500" engraved in dark blue ink in the top left corner.

Becca hesitated before taking it. "What is this?" she asked tentatively.

Mac sat back down on the sofa. "It's a letter resigning as President."

"Is this a joke?" Becca asked, staring at the letter.

"No," Mac replied in a gentle, yet unequivocal tone. "It's real. It becomes effective immediately upon noted receipt by the Secretary of State."

"You would do that for him?"

"I would do it for you," Mac clarified when their eyes met. "Your Dad would never ask it of me. But you and Cooper are rightfully his first priority. If this is what it takes to earn your blessing for our marriage, then it's what I'll do. I made the mistake in the past of not following my heart. I won't do that again."

"Why does it have to be marriage?"

"That's your father's doing," Mac informed her. "Do I want to marry him? More than anything. But I'd be happy to have him in my life under any terms. He's the one who is insistent it's all or nothing. He loves you, Becca. More than you know. He loves me, too. But without your blessing, he's decided it has to be nothing. It's what he believes is right. I can't ask him to be less than he is. So if your problem with our relationship is my job, take that letter to the Secretary of State and I'll resign."

Becca looked again at the letter still clutched in her hand and then at the woman who wrote it. "You're serious? This isn't some prop?"

Mac met her questioning gaze. "I'm very serious."

"But you like being president, don't you?"

"Very much," she answered wistfully. "I love it."

"You'd really let me decide?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Becca asked, unable to comprehend just how this conversation could possibly be real. "This is insane."

A gentle smile creased Mac's face. "Because I love your Dad, and care for your happiness and Cooper's, more than I want to be president." She leaned forward and closer to Rod's daughter. "Becca, if your real problem is with me personally, please tell me what the issues are and we can try to work through them together. Who knows? We might even become friends. No one could ever take the place of your mother, and I would never try. She was a remarkable woman. But maybe…."

Rebecca interrupted, "You have no idea who my mother was, or what she was like. You don't know anything about her… or me."

Mac heard the hard defiance in her voice, but saw the pain in her eyes. "I know that it wasn't fair that she died so young. I also know how hard it must have been growing up without her, and that you must miss her terribly." She went and sat next to her. "I may not have known your mother, but I do know your father. He is extraordinary. He could not have loved your mother if she was not extraordinary, too. And he loved her, Rebecca, loved her with everything he had—and he still does."

"That doesn't bother you?"

"I try not to let it," Mac conceded. "You and Cooper mean the world to your Dad. Since your mother's death he's given the two of you everything he has: because he loves you and because he didn't want you to suffer because of her loss. I'm not telling you anything you don't already know when I say he is a wonderful father."

"No, you're not," Becca agreed. "Dad's the best."

"Yes, he is." Mac was surprised that there was no hint of anger or sarcasm in her voice. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance. "You know, time and time again he has demonstrated that you and Cooper come first in his life, and that his love for you is unconditional. But you are adults now and living on your own. You don't need him like you did; and he's alone. Is that what you want for him? Do you truly want him to turn his back on love and happiness? Becca, I love him; and he loves me. But he loves you more. He's proved that over and over. The real question is: How much do you love him?" She sighed deeply. "I won't keep you any longer. Thank you for talking with me."

Mac stood.

"You forgot the letter," Becca called out as she began walking away.

She turned. "You keep it. I meant what I said. It's your choice." She continued to stroll across the room but before she entered the bedroom, she paused.

"Becca?"

When she turned around, Mac smiled at her and said, "Don't be too hard and Jamison and Cooper. This was my doing. It's obvious that Jay cares a great deal about you. And Cooper loves you very much… and he misses his best friend."


	36. The Road Back

**36. The Road Back**

**Thursday, May 26, 2016**

**Colorado Springs, Colorado**

Rod heard a keycard in the door of his Broadmoor suite and looked up from his desk where he'd been working. "Hey, sweetheart," he said as Becca came into view. Her hair was pulled back and she was still wearing her Team USA warm-ups. He'd flown in on Tuesday night to support her during tryouts for the national under-21 team. She'd been kept so busy they had only a few minutes to talk, which was both a blessing and a curse. Things were awkward between them. He hated it, but didn't know how to change it. It was still too soon, and he was still too conflicted.

She put down her duffel bag and sank into one of the sofas. "Hi."

He looked at his watch and saw it was almost one o'clock. Work had been his savior these past weeks. Immersing himself in the law got him through the days and at least partially through the nights. But forgetting Mac was proving a near impossible task. "How'd you get here? I thought you were going to call."

She shrugged. "We finished early so I got a cab. I just couldn't stay around the training facility one minute more. The girls were driving me crazy…. I just needed some space. That's okay, isn't it?"

"And here I've been feeling guilty because you don't have a bunch of sisters to keep you company."

"Yikes!" She gritted her teeth. "That would be a nightmare."

He took off his reading glasses and joined her. "You played really well this morning. How did you feel about it?" He loved watching her play. On the soccer field she was completely at home and absolutely fearless.

"Pretty good," she agreed. "But the altitude is a bear and I'm beat. Can I hang out here with you? I'm free until six."

"Do you really think you need to ask?" he gently reprimanded, hearing the tentativeness in her voice. He pulled her in for a hug but quickly released her. "You stink!"

"Sorry," she said shyly. "I left straight after conditioning. I was counting on a long soak in your Jacuzzi tub."

"You were, huh? Well, help yourself. I certainly won't be needing it," he told her with a sigh.

She looked at her father and was slammed in the face with what she'd been pretending not to see. He'd lost weight and there was no light in his eyes. She'd never seen him like this before. She'd been too young to understand what it must have been like for him after mom died. But she could see what it was like for him now. She hadn't been able to forget her conversations with Cooper and Mac last weekend. She'd even brought the resignation letter from Mac with her because in her heart she knew Coop was right: Dad was trying hard, but he was miserable; and it was all her fault. She took a deep breath before doing what she knew was right. "Dad, I saw Cooper and Mac last weekend when they were in town. Cooper said something… Well, he made me…"

"I'm not doing this again, Rebecca. It's over. Go take that bath." There was no point revisiting their conversation in Greenwich when she'd made her feelings about Mackenzie and their relationship perfectly clear. He stood and returned to the desk. However, watching his daughter slowly pick up her duffel bag, shoulders hunched, he felt guilty about the harshness in his voice and the way he'd cut her off. He hadn't intended to take out his frustrations on her. It wasn't her fault. It was simply the way it was; and somehow he had to accept that and let go of what could not be. "You hungry?" he asked, reaching for her hand as she walked past the desk.

She looked down at their joined hands and nodded. "Starved."

"How about room service?" he asked with a gentle smile.

"Thanks, Dad."

The relief in her voice was a tangible reminder of his daughter's sensitivity. As she walked into the other room he called out, "Rebecca?"

She turned.

"I love you… and I'm proud of you."

She smiled. "Me, too. Thanks for being here. I always play better when you're around."

"Kiddo, you and Cooper are my world, where else would I be?"

XXXXXXXXXX

An hour later the two of them were eating a late lunch in the suite when Rod's phone rang. He looked at the caller I.D. "It's your brother," he told her. "He probably wants to know how you're playing. He loves you, you know."

"I know."

Rod accepted the call and put the phone to his ear. "Hey, bud," he said into the receiver. "What's up?"

"_Dad, we're going to the WTO thing and she's really sick. Has to have an operation and the Service wants it in a military…. But she can't…."_

"Slow down, son. You're not making sense." He spoke with far more calmness than he felt. "Take a deep breath and talk to me. Where are you and what's wrong with Mackenzie?"

"_We're on the plane and she suddenly doubled over. It's bad, Dad. She looks awful. She's as white as a ghost and in a ton of pain."_

"What is it? Do they know?"

"_Acute appendicitis."_

"Is she conscious?" He stood and began to pace around the room.

"_She's on the phone with Mr. Gardner."_

"What does Dr. Brock say? He's there, right?"

"_Yeah. He says she needs surgery immediately, wants us to land now."_

"So what's the problem?"

"_The Secret Service. They say it's not safe, not secure I mean."_

"Where are you now?"

"_Over Nebraska, but Offutt Air Force Base doesn't really have a hospital so the Secret Service wants Oklahoma or Kansas. Dr. Brock says she can't wait. But nobody's listening. They're just arguing over where to land. It's crazy. Dad, she's septic…."_

Rod felt that ice cold dread fill his veins. He took a deep breath and said, "It will be okay, son. I'll handle it. Where's Agent Stanley?" Jensen Stanley was the head of PPD and always accompanied Mac on her travels.

"_He's not here. Broke his leg in a training exercise last week."_

He raked the fingers of his free hand through his hair. He shouldn't intervene. It wasn't his place. But if he did nothing and something were to happen…. He couldn't live with the regret. "Put me on with the lead agent."

"_Yes, sir._"

A minute later a new voice came on the phone. _"Agent Johnson."_

"This is Rod Calloway. Do you know who I am?"

"_Yes, Judge."_

"Good. Because I'm going to give you orders and I expect them to be followed to the letter. The President's life is at stake and right now I don't give a damn about security protocol. You got that?"

"_Yes, sir."_

"Good. First, you tell Colonel Davidson to land at Offutt A.S.A.P. I want an ambulance and a motorcade ready and waiting. I also want the nearest Level I trauma center put on immediate alert and made ready for your arrival with their best surgical team on standby. You ask Dr. Brock what he needs and you make it happen. He's the one in charge. What he says goes. No questions asked. As for security precautions, you do the best you can. Are we clear, Agent Johnson?"

"_Yes, sir."_

There was a momentary pause before Cooper came back on the line. _"Dad?"_

Rod took a deep breath. "How is she?"

"_She's still on the phone. Talking about Templeton, I think, and what happens if he chooses to become Acting President. Dad, she can barely speak. But she won't take any pain medication."_

He'd completely forgotten about Vice-President Keaton's resignation. "What a nightmare," he muttered to himself, knowing that regardless of how much pain she was in, the only thing on Mac's mind would be the welfare of the country. She needed someone to protect her from herself; and it should have been him.

"_Dr. Brock looks worried—really worried."_

Rod was terrified, too. But he couldn't say so. He had to reassure his son. "When we hang up, you tell Brock that you're landing at Offutt and that the Secret Service has been instructed that he's in charge. I also want you to keep me posted every step of the way."

"_Okay. But you're coming, aren't you?"_

Rod momentarily closed his eyes. Clenching his fist, he replied, "I can't."

"_Dad, she needs you. You have to be here."_

"Dammit, Junior!" he yelled. "Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I want to be there for her? But I can't. It would only hurt her more in the end."

"_Screw Becca, Dad. I know what septic means. It means she could die."_

He took a deep breath. "Listen to me, son," he said calmly. "She's going to be okay. This is not like your mom, you hear me? Not like your mom. Dr. Brock is an excellent doctor and he'll take good care of her."

"_Okay. But Dad…."_

"Cooper," Rod interrupted, "you know I'd give anything to change things and to be there with her, but I can't. Not without causing her more pain. So I need you to be there instead. I need you to be strong. Okay?"

"_Yes, sir."_

"Good. Now I want you to hang up the phone and tell Dr. Brock what I told you. I also want you to tell Mackenzie not to worry, and that I'll call Kate and let her know what's happening." He wanted desperately to speak with her. He needed to hear her voice, and there was so much he wanted to be able to say to her. But he couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to offer his love when they couldn't be together.

"_Yes, sir."_

Rod hung up the phone and began to say a silent prayer as he stared out the window, his breath uneven and his heart racing. She had to be okay…. Letting her go was hard enough, but the thought of losing her completely was unbearable. He should have spoken to Colonel Davidson and Brock himself. "Please, God," he said quietly. "Get her the help she needs quickly. Don't let anything happen to her."

"Dad?"

He turned around.

"Is Mackenzie okay?"

He sighed. "It's her appendix, honey. Sounds to me like it may have burst. It's serious. She needs surgery immediately. They're landing in Omaha." He removed his phone from his pocket. "I need to call Kate."

"Dad, you should go."

Rod stopped dialing. "I can't. I'll only hurt her more. I can't come in and out of her life. It wouldn't be fair."

Becca shook her head. "No, Dad. You need to go. It's what I was trying to tell you before."

"You mean?"

"Yeah…" she nodded.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "Come sit down," he told her with a gentle squeeze. When they were seated on one of the sofa's he said, "Bec, I appreciate the gesture—I really do. But I know how you feel. You don't have to do this, it'll be okay."

"No, it won't. I've done a lot of thinking and it was selfish of me…. Well, Coop's right. You're not okay. You're miserable. You need to go."

He reached out and stroked her cheek. "Sweetheart, are you sure?"

She nodded. "Dad, she makes you happy."

"Yes, she does. But I meant what I told you before. You and Cooper come first."

"I know. But you should be happy, too. So I want you to go."

"What about tryouts?"

"Dad, I'm fine. Go. She needs you." She walked over to her duffel bag and pulled out the resignation letter. Handing it to him, she said, "Give this to her, okay?"

He looked at the envelope embossed with the "The White House" in the top left corner. "What is this?"

"Just give to her, okay?"

"Okay," he reluctantly agreed. "Bec, are you sure about this? Because if you're not…."

"Go, Dad. I'm sure."

Smiling he asked, "Will you pack for me while I call Kate and Cooper and figure out the quickest way to get to Omaha?"

"Yeah," she said. "But you'll probably have to charter a plane or an Air Force jet. Colorado Springs isn't exactly a transportation mecca. Neither is Omaha."

"I know," he sighed.

XXXXXXXXXX

Rebecca was proven to be right. By far the quickest means of getting from Colorado Springs to Omaha was to charter a jet. By the time Rod had packed and driven to the airport the plane had arrived from Denver. As he climbed aboard he recognized again how lucky he was to have the financial means available to make such a journey.

His two pilots and a young, eager flight attendant, who offered him a seductive smile before she stowed his luggage, greeted him. He forced a smile in return and chose a forward facing seat where he could stare out the window. As he settled into his seat, he breathed deeply. It was like a crazy dream: Mac's illness. Rebecca's decision. The only other time he could remember experiencing such acute exhilaration mixed with overpowering anxiety was when he'd learned about the twins. He'd felt the same way when he'd learned Lauren was pregnant with their younger daughter whom they'd planned on naming Elizabeth. But his joy in that instance was short-lived and soon eclipsed by worry, fear, and ultimately by emptiness. He shivered, and then said another silent prayer for Mackenzie. He couldn't lose her—couldn't go through that grief again.

"Judge Calloway?"

He turned to see the same young, eager flight attendant, still wearing the same provocative smile, leaning towards him, hand on the back of his chair. "Can I get you something to drink before take-off?"

"No, thank you. I won't need anything." He couldn't eat or drink anything—not now, and he was in no mood for flirtation, harmless though it may be. He only wanted one thing: Mackenzie safe and in his arms. He didn't wait for a reply but returned to staring out the window.

Throughout take-off and their ascent to cruising altitude, a war raged in his head. His logical, rational left-brain constantly prompted him that Mac would get the absolute best medical care, even under such unexpected circumstances; and that she was strong… and stubborn. However, these repeated reminders could not quell the fearful imaginings that currently dominated the right side of his brain. Meanwhile, his heart continued to pound so loudly that he was convinced he could also hear its beating in his head, too.

He closed his eyes and took deliberate breaths. Eventually it all quieted and his thoughts drifted back to their beginning—back to when they were simply "Rod" and "Mac." From the moment they met, she'd captivated him and commanded his heart, mind and body. For a moment he panicked. After all that had happened between them—all he'd recently put her through—would she take him back? But he knew in his soul that she was his, just as he knew he would never let her go again—regardless of what obstacles may yet come against them. Restless and anxious to get to her, he began to make plans.

His grandmother would be especially happy. He smiled as he recalled that long ago conversation between them the day after his second date with Mackenzie. He'd driven home from New Haven to watch Christopher's first freshman football game at Greenwich High School. After they'd returned home and had lunch, his grandmother cajoled him into joining her for one of her famous "walk and talks."

_September 3, 1994_

"_My boy, tell me about law school," Nana asked as they walked towards the patio adjacent to the boat dock._

"_It's hard," he admitted. "A lot harder than I thought it would be—and I expected it to be tough."_

_She stopped and looked him over. "But you love it…."_

"_Yeah," he acknowledged with a nod. "I do."_

"_Your father will be terribly disappointed," she told him as they again resumed their walk._

_He didn't need to be told. He was well aware of what his Dad thought about his decision to pursue law over business. He could handle his father's disappointment, but not hers. "Are you disappointed?" he asked._

_As if she could sense his anxiety, she pointed to a bench at the edge of his mother's rose garden. "Come over here." When they were seated she lovingly touched his knee and told him, "The bank is not the place for you—although you would excel there. You have your grandfather's gift… and we taught you well."_

_He chuckled. "Yes, you did. I just wish Dad understood," he added with a sigh._

"_He will," she told him confidently. "But Roderic, though he's struggling with your choice of career, never doubt his love for you, or the respect he has for you in choosing to be your own man."_

"_Yeah…"_

"_And until he does understand, I'll keep reminding him that it could have been much, much worse." With a knowing twinkle in her eye and the timing of a comedienne, she added, "You could have chosen to make the Army your career."_

_He smiled. "Three years was enough."_

"_More than enough," she informed him, all traces of humor instantly gone from her voice, "though we're all proud of you for choosing that sacrifice."_

_He nodded his thanks. He'd learned many lessons during his time in the Army, but most of them were intensely private._

"_Now," his grandmother continued, "tell me about this woman who has put that unmistakable light in your eyes and spring in your step."_

"_What?" he questioned. He was shocked. He hadn't told anyone about Mackenzie. How could she possibly know?_

"_Junior, I'm old, but not that old. And I'm certainly not blind. You are in love. If I had to venture a guess, this is no passing fancy. She's the one, isn't she?"_

_He felt his face redden; and yet he wasn't embarrassed. If anything, he was more certain. "Yes, she is. Her name is Mackenzie. She's a third-year. We met the first day of class. She's beautiful, Nana… and brilliant and challenging. She's not sure about me yet—or us. But I am." He sighed. "But somehow I will convince her to become my wife." Suddenly the magnitude of his words hit him and he panicked. "Am I crazy? Is it really possible to fall irrevocably in love in an instant?"_

_Rebecca smiled at him. "'Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?'"_

"_Shakespeare?" he guessed._

"_As You Like It, Act 3, Scene 5."_

"_Do you think he was right?" he asked, desperately hoping that such a thing was possible._

_She nodded. "I do. It was that way for your grandfather and your father at just your age, in fact. For me, too. And your mother, I think." She took the diamond ring off her left hand and gave it to him. "You know that your grandfather gave me this ring on our 25__th__ wedding anniversary. You are his namesake and my joy in life. I'd like you to give this to Mackenzie when you decide to propose."_

_Speechless, he stared first at the ring held gently between his fingers and then at her. She'd worn this ring all his life and never took it off. "Nana, I can't take this…. Papa gave it to you. You love it."_

"_And he would want you to have it…. I want you to have it."_

"_But…," he began to protest but she cut him off._

"_Roderic, I'm not doing this on a whim. It's something I've planned on since you were just a little boy. If Mackenzie doesn't like it, then save it for your son or daughter someday. But I hope she'll see in it what I do. Most of all, I hope it will come to symbolize for the two of you the same love shared by your grandfather and me every day of our life together. A love you've also witnessed in your parents." When she finished there were tears in her eyes._

"_Thank you, Nana." His voice sounded hoarse and he felt tears threaten to pour from his own eyes. He hugged her close. She whispered in his ear, "I love you, my boy, and I expect to meet Mackenzie soon."_

_Afterwards she held his face in her hands and kissed him on the forehead. Then with that familiar hint of mischief in her eyes she asked, "Can I give you one more piece of advice from Mr. Shakespeare?"_

_He smiled._

"'_She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd; She is a woman, therefore to be won.'"_

"_Sound advice, particularly for Mackenzie," he acknowledged. "Let me guess. Romeo and Juliet? Taming of the Shrew?"_

_She shook her head. "Henry VI Part I."_

Rod wiped a tear from his eye as the plane began its initial descent and his thoughts returned to the present. He chuckled at how young and naïve he was then, and how uncomplicated life had been. But the central themes from their conversation—the truths symbolized in that ring—were as true today as they were those many years ago. Of course back then he could not have imagined a life without Mackenzie. But life had chosen other plans for each of them; and throughout the intervening years, he never could have imagined a life with her. But then life had changed its mind and brought him full circle, back to Mackenzie… before he'd nearly lost her again. With a determined brow he made a silent promise that nothing would ever come between them again; and then he prayed that soon she would again be safe in his arms.


	37. Don't Ever Do That Again

**37. Don't Ever Do that Again**

**Thursday, May 26, 2016**

**Omaha, Nebraska**

Rod exited the plane and was met on the tarmac by Agents Rivers and Jenkins. He greeted them briefly and climbed into the back seat.

"Thanks for picking me up," he told them as they left the airport on their way to the Nebraska Medical Center.

"No problem, sir," Jeffrey Rivers replied.

"The boss will be very glad to see you, sir," Jessica Jenkins added.

"How is she?" he asked.

"We haven't heard anything since she went into surgery forty minutes ago," Jeffrey answered through the rearview mirror.

"Forty minutes? That's it?" he questioned. It had been more than three hours since he'd spoken to Cooper the first time. He hadn't spoken to Mackenzie. He wanted her focus only on the surgery ahead; and he didn't want to disappoint her in case he was unavoidably delayed. "What happened, Jeffrey? Was there more delay in getting to Offutt?"

"No, sir. You took care of that problem," he replied with a smug smile.

"Sorry about that," Rod said. "I had no right to interfere."

"Sir," Agent Jenkins interrupted, turning in her seat to look at him, "You had every right."

"I really didn't," he insisted. "But I couldn't help myself. I had to do something."

"Sir," Jessica continued, "Sam Johnson is an ass. You did what you had to do. Often the rest of us forget the woman and see only the title. You never forget. I don't know what's been going on recently, and I may be out of line here, but she needs you, sir."

He met her gaze. "I'm not going anywhere, Jessica." He didn't say more. There was no need. Both of them clearly understood what remained unspoken between them: He hadn't been there for her today—not like she needed him to be. He was determined that would not happen again.

XXXXXXXXXX

Rod felt even more determined hours later when Mac was out of surgery and he was finally allowed to see her. Her appendix had in fact burst, spreading poison throughout her body. They'd come close to losing her. He was so relieved to see her. She was still in intensive care. He'd sent everyone else—Cooper included, to the hospital guest suites that had been prepared for them to get some sleep. The next few days were bound to be hectic for all of them. Templeton appeared to be making a mess of things and Mackenzie would be furious when she regained consciousness. "How is she, Kyle?" he asked Dr. Brock, who was checking the monitors attached to her.

"Her vitals are strong and her color is improving."

He walked around to the far side of her bed to see her better. Her color was improved? She looked ghostly pale to him. Her face was devoid of makeup and her hair was matted from the fever and surgical cap. Yet she remained utterly beautiful. "And the infection?" he asked.

"It's still a concern," the doctor acknowledged. "But she seems to be responding well to the antibiotics, and we both know how stubborn she is. She won't let this thing keep her down."

Rod smiled and picked up one of her hands. Gently securing it in between his own larger hands, he said, "I know my words are wholly inadequate, but thank you for saving her life."

Kyle shook his head. "Not me," he insisted. "Her surgeons did that… and you."

"How long before she can be moved to a regular room?"

"Tomorrow morning. I want to keep a close eye on her tonight."

His blood froze again. "She's not out of danger?"

"It's just a precaution," Kyle assured him.

"Okay," he said with a relieved sigh. "Still think she'll sleep straight through the night?"

Kyle nodded. "And if she does wake up, she'll be groggy, perhaps even disoriented."

Rod looked down upon her sleeping face and chuckled at the mental picture of a "disoriented" Mackenzie Allen. "Kyle, I understand the rules about visitors, but I'd like to stay with her… I need to stay with her."

"I'll get it cleared. I'm going to shower and then get some food and sleep. But I'll be close by if needed."

"Thanks." After he left, Rod pulled a chair up and sat close to her. He brushed back the hair that had fallen down across her face and gently kissed her forehead. As he held her hand and stared into her peaceful face, he was reminded of his own post-surgical experience when they'd been together in law school.

Six weeks or so into their relationship, Mike Stanton had deliberately undercut him on the basketball court and he'd broken his arm. During surgery he'd suffered an allergic reaction to the anesthesia that bottomed out his respiration and turned his same-day surgery into a three-day ordeal.

The morning he was released from the hospital he took Mackenzie flowers, but she was furious with him. He didn't know it at the time but she'd thought he'd been seeing someone else. She wouldn't even look at him, so he'd left the flowers and had gone home. But she'd come over to his condo that evening with dinner anyway, and afterwards they had their first real argument. She was livid that he hadn't told her about being in the hospital. The raw emotion in her voice touched something inside him. It was the first time in their relationship that she'd allowed herself to display any real vulnerability. He'd gathered her up against him with his good arm, and held her close. Later that night, he told her he loved her for the first time. The pain in her eyes and her subsequent tears broke his heart.

At the time he didn't know anything about the man responsible for her heartache and mistrust, the man who had contributed so much to their break up—not even his name. David. Even now Rod didn't know his last name. He was just David. David, who more than twenty years later still had a hold on the woman he loved. He wasn't threatened by it: She was no longer heartbroken or afraid to love—she'd proven that over and over the past few months.

But for some inexplicable reason she still could not see David's choice clearly, or understand how bored and miserable she would be in the life he'd chosen. She wasn't meant to be a diplomat's wife. She was meant for greatness in her own right, not as someone else's "better half." Her parents knew it—particularly Michael; and somehow he'd always understood it, too. Mac seemed to be the only one who didn't fully understand that she was meant to lead, not follow. That she was born to become exactly who she had become: The woman who would change the course of history.

How would they have balanced it all had they stayed together? His father was right to question him like he had when the two of them had discussed marriage the weekend before his breakup with Mackenzie. Twenty years ago, would he have been selfless enough to forestall his own dreams and ambitions and support her? He hoped so. But honestly, he did not know. And what about their children? There would have been no simple solution like there'd been with Lauren, who loved being at home with the twins.

Life had worked out for the best for each of them, he realized again with a deep intake of breath. He had no regrets. They could be together now without any such obstacles. Sure they would have challenges, but nothing that couldn't be worked out relatively easy. They were older and wiser now. Fortunately his job could generally be done as easily from Washington as from Atlanta. The twins were grown so he had the freedom to travel and be at Mac's side on a regular basis. He _would_ be there for her. There would be no repeat of today.

He leaned forwards and kissed her forehead once more, lingering a moment to check for fever. He breathed a sigh of relief at the relative coolness of her skin. He'd come so close to losing her today. He ran his fingers through her hair and caressed her cheek. He was surprised when she opened her eyes and looked at him. "Hi," he said, continuing to stroke her hair. She said nothing and he wondered if she were truly awake. "You are so beautiful," he told her, and her eyes filled with tears. Panicked, he asked, "What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

She reached out and touched his face. "You feel so real. But when I wake up you'll be gone and I'll be shattered again."

Gently he brushed away her tears. "This is no dream, Sleeping Beauty. I love you and I'm not going anywhere."

She shook her head. "I don't believe you. This is a dream—a wonderful dream, but it's not real."

"Honey, this is as real as it gets." To prove his point he placed a soft, lingering kiss on her mouth, and felt her first tremble then sigh.

"You promise?"

He chuckled at the child-like insistence in her voice. "I promise. Now go back to sleep," he gently prodded.

"Okay," she agreed. "It's such a wonderful dream." Momentarily she closed her eyes but then opened them again. "You'll stay with me?" she asked hesitantly.

He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed the top of them. "I'll be right here waiting for you to wake up, waiting so we can finally begin our life together—a long and happy life, full of love and laughter. And I won't let anyone or anything come between us again."

"Kiss me again, please?" she begged.

"Yes, Madam President," he teased before brushing his lips over her full-mouth. He was careful to keep his weight off her. He heard her sigh contentedly again. "Better?" he asked, looking into her face with an indulgent smile.

She nodded. But before drifting back to sleep, she whispered, "I like this dream. Don't let it end."

"I won't," he promised with one last kiss on her forehead. He continued to sit beside her, holding her hand, until he, too, fell asleep, dreaming of their future together.

XXXXXXXXXX

**Friday, March 27, 2016**

The dream ended, leaving Mac feeling bereft. She hated to open her eyes and find herself alone again. It must have been Cooper's conversation with him on the plane that had caused her to dream he was here. Maybe she could fall back asleep and recreate the dream. But the throbbing pain on the right side of her abdomen became a stark reminder of reality: She was the President of the United States and there was work to do.

Opening her eyes, she took in her surroundings and gasped in surprise. She wasn't alone: He was more than a dream. Rod was sleeping next to her, slumped in a chair with his long legs sprawled across the floor. He looked stiff, uncomfortable and very sexy. In an instant all her concerns about her job and for the country flew away on sabbatical. All that mattered at the moment was that he was here. Gingerly she turned and began to caress his arm, which was draped on the bed. When he opened his eyes she saw the same initial disorientation she'd just experienced. Then he saw her and his eyes became filled with loving concern while a sweet smile tugged at his lips.

"Hey," he said softly, sitting up and moving even closer to her.

She reached out and caressed his unshaven cheek. "You're really here."

He nodded and kissed her softly on the mouth. "You scared me to death. Don't ever do that again."

She playfully tapped his nose. "I don't think I can. I'm fairly certain I only have one appendix."

"Smart ass," he threw back. He took her hand and held it gently. "I love you."

"Me, too," she said with a sigh. "So much. I can't believe you're here. I honestly thought I was dreaming."

He chuckled. "I know. You were so cute… but so out of it. I don't think you believed I was real even after I kissed you."

"Hey!" she protested. "It's not wholly irrational, you know. You did talk to Cooper after all, and from what I hear, you also gave the Secret Service the business and ordered them to land here immediately."

"I did," he acknowledged. "I was terrified of losing you."

She tilted her head, and looked at him skeptically. "If you were that scared, why didn't you talk to me?"

He stroked her cheek softly with the back of his hand. "I couldn't do that to you—to either of us. I couldn't just waltz in and out of your life like it was nothing. Like we were nothing."

Briefly the pain and loneliness of the past few weeks came rushing back, followed by the realization that he was truly here. "So does that mean?" she asked hopefully.

"Don't you remember anything about our conversation last night?"

She ignored his tease and answered truthfully, "Just that you were here with me, kissing me and touching me, and I never wanted it to end."

"It will never end," he assured her as he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. He looked deep into her eyes and told her, "I promise to kiss you and touch you and love you until my dying day."

"I want that so much," she said, deeply touched by his heartfelt promise. "But what about Rebecca?"

"She's the reason I'm here. She insisted I come."

"She did?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

She squeezed his hand. "I'll do everything in my power to protect her."

"We both will." Again he stroked her hair. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"

"Yeah right!" She rolled her eyes. "I must look like death warmed over."

"Just a little pale," he acknowledged, "but absolutely stunning."

She tried to chuckle at his blatant lie. But it turned into a wince.

"How bad is it?" he asked, his brows furrowed with obvious concern.

"Truthfully? I feel like a rubber wheel whose insides have been ripped apart by a tire shredder."

"Oh, honey… let me get you some painkiller. We should get Kyle in here anyway to take a look at you."

"I'm all right," she assured him. "What time is it?"

He looked at his watch, which was still set to Mountain Daylight Time. "Well, in Colorado Springs it's six. So that makes it seven here."

"And eight in D.C." she finished. "I can't believe I was out all night. The press must be having a field day and Templeton…"

He put a finger to her lips. "Stop it. You slept because it was what your body needed. When I think about how close we came to losing you…."

"I'm all right," she assured him again.

"You just had major surgery," he reminded her. "Listen, Mac, I understand you have a job to do. But I am not going to let you put your health at risk… no matter how strong and stubborn you may be. Don't think you can stop me either, Madam President."

"Wouldn't dream of it," she said. She'd missed his tender care and gentle teasing so much. "I still can't believe you're here. I honestly wasn't sure we'd ever be like this again. There's so much I want to say…"

"I know. Me, too," he agreed. "But you have a job to do."

"Please don't think that you're not the most important thing in my life."

He winked at her. "We'll have plenty of time for us later. I'll make sure of it."

"I'd so much rather it be now. It's just that I can't afford to have Templeton prancing around my office one minute longer than necessary."

"I'd like to be able to disagree with you there, but I can't," he admitted after a moment's hesitation.

"What happened?" she asked with her patented scowl.

"Maybe you should talk to Jim," he suggested.

"Rod…" she protested. She attempted to sit up but didn't get very far.

"Let me help you." He propped up her pillows and adjusted the bed into more of an upright position. "How's that?"

"Better," she agreed, taking a deep breath to fight against the acute discomfort.

He could see the pain she was in. "I'm getting you some pain reliever, and Dr. Brock," he told her.

She grabbed his hand as he moved towards the door. "Talk to me first. Please?"

He sighed as she gingerly moved more to the side of the bed to make room for him. He carefully sat down beside her. He'd spent the hours in the waiting room watching the news and speaking regularly with Jim so he'd be prepared. "There was a Liberation of Palestine Organization suicide bombing at a bus stop ten miles outside of Tel Aviv. Jim advised Templeton to call the Israeli's and urge restraint but he refused claiming 'Israel has the right to defend itself.'"

Mac took another deep breath, infinitely frustrated over yesterday's events. "What else?"

"Templeton also had the House pass a resolution for binding arbitration over the airline strike. And the National Mediation Board ruled in favor of the airlines and ordered the pilots back to work. Of course, Templeton is now claiming a total victory for himself."

"How long is this new deal in effect?"

"Sixty days."

"Dammit, Rod! That man just undid months of hard work and good will. I need to speak with Jim and resume my office."

"Slow down, Mackenzie," he insisted. "You almost died yesterday. You will not do anything without doctor approval."

"Then get Brock in here–immediately," she commanded. "And help me get dressed. I'm not seeing anybody like this... and I need to be briefed because I _am_ resuming Office."

All he could do was smile knowingly and do what she asked. But he would watch her like a hungry hawk eying his next meal.

A relatively short time later, Mac was on the phone with Jim, dressed in her own robe with a stack of papers in front of her and reading glasses on. She'd been briefed, examined and moved to another room; and once again she was officially the President of the United States.

Rod stood just outside talking with Dr. Brock, who had given her the green light to work from bed–within limits. Even while speaking, however, he kept one eye on Mackenzie. She would begin testing those limits very quickly. She looked better, but she was operating on pure adrenaline, stubbornness, and anger over Templeton. "Kyle," he said, "I'm worried about her, worried she's doing too much, too fast."

"You should be concerned. "

"What does she need?"

"Bed rest... it's that simple."

He nodded and raised a sardonic eyebrow."Try telling her that..."

"Good luck... I'm here to back you up," the doctor told him as both men re-entered the room.

"These workers will almost certainly strike at the end of the sixty-day period," the President was saying_, _"and guess what? It's their right to do so... Not separately, together. In person, in the Roosevelt Room, first thing Monday. I don't care that it's the holiday... Thanks, Jim."

She hung up the phone and gave it to Cooper, who was standing on one side of the bed, before speaking to Dr. Brock who was standing on the other side with Rod. "When is the soonest I can leave?"

"You're starting to sound like a typical patient."

"I'm feeling much better and I happen to travel with my own Doc 24/7."

"Nice try. The earliest–and it's not my ideal choice, but maybe sometime tomorrow."

Mac took off her glasses. "Make it happen." As the doctor left the room, she turned her attention to the television screen where an earlier press conference of then Acting President Nathan Templeton was being aired.

"_Morning,"_ Templeton exclaimed as he walked behind the podium in the White House pressroom. _"Effective immediately, the strike that has frozen the nation's travel industry, and threatened our economy, has stood to ruin this holiday weekend of the American people, has ended..."_

"Dammit!" she muttered again. She turned to Cooper. "Call Mr. Gardner and tell him I want the Speaker in my office when I get home."

"Mac…" Rod warned. "I don't think that's wise."

She turned her scowl on him.

His mouth tightened and he stared back. The upcoming days would be a battle of wills and he had no intention of backing down if she was doing too much, too soon.

"Give it up, Dad," Cooper said lightly, in an attempt to diffuse the rising tension in the room. "She's got her 'hmph face' on. You know what that means."

In spite of himself, Rod began to laugh. Raising his hands in surrender, he said, "All right. I know when I'm beat." He sat down next to her on the bed and grasped one of her hands. "Can't you at least wait until Monday to see him? Give yourself a little time. What difference will a couple of days make?"

She shook her head. "I can't, honey. This conversation is long overdue. It's all a power trip to him—all a game… and the people of this country deserve better."

"Okay, Madam President," he conceded. "But after that, the rest of the weekend you are mine; and absent a genuine emergency there will be no work. Deal?"

"Deal."

He sighed heavily as the events of the last two days caught up with him. "Don't ever do this to me again," he told her. "I don't think I could take it."

"I won't if you won't," she replied with a similar sigh. "It would kill me to lose you again."

"I promise." He leaned forward until their foreheads connected… just like old times. Still touching, they chuckled when Cooper asked, "Can I call the Chief Justice now?"


	38. Let Us Go Forward Together

**38. Let Us Go Forward Together**

**Saturday, May 28, 2016**

**Washington, D.C.**

Rod got off the phone with Cooper and looked over at Mac, who sat perpendicular to him across a narrow aisle aboard Marine One. Her eyes were closed, but her body was tense. She was in pain. She was also strong-willed and this weekend was bound to be a challenge.

He hadn't been sure about taking the chopper in from Andrews Air Force Base instead of the limousine, but she'd insisted because city traffic would not be disrupted. Dr. Brock seemed okay with it, so he'd chosen not to argue; and though Kyle was on board with them, he was still on edge. Even now she was insisting on meeting with Templeton immediately. He, on the other hand, wanted "Madam President" left in the West Wing, and "Mackenzie" dressed in pajamas and tucked safely upstairs in bed.

As they flew over the National Mall, he leaned forward to take a closer look out the window. This view of Washington's city was breathtaking. What a way to travel he thought with great amusement. No wonder his son was obsessed with her transportation toys.

Mac felt him shift positions and knew exactly what he was seeing and feeling. On most days, she still felt that exhilaration. As they made the all-too-familiar turn around the Washington Monument, she opened her eyes and smiled at the intensity of his gaze as he stared out the window. "Amazing view, isn't it?" she said.

"Yes, it is," he acknowledged, trying to take it all in.

"You should see it at night," she pointed out.

He turned his head towards her and smiled. "Think the President will invite me again?" he teased.

"She'd be a fool if she didn't." She reached across the narrow aisle and grabbed his hand. The press corps hadn't been allowed access to her at the hospital, or at Offutt and Andrews. But they would be waiting for her arrival en masse on the South Lawn, along with several staff members and their guests. It never ceased to amaze her how a simple helicopter departure or arrival could garner so much attention. "Honey, are you honestly ready for this?" she asked him.

"For a public relationship?"

She nodded.

"Only for you," he replied with a smile. Lightly he brushed his thumb across the top of her knuckles. He could feel the tension in her. "How bad is the pain?" he asked.

She shrugged. "About a six."

"Mac…"

She sighed. "More like an eight," she conceded.

Which translated to at least a nine, he thought wryly. "At least use the wheelchair."

"I'll be okay," she insisted, trying to summon up strength she did not have.

"I know you won't postpone this, but why don't you meet with Templeton upstairs?" he suggested. "You'd be more comfortable."

She shook her head. "It has to be the office."

He squeezed her hand. "Mackenzie, you don't need the trappings of power to prove to him, or anyone else, exactly who you are and why you are here."

"Thanks. But today I need all the help I can get." She hurt all over and was finding it a chore to breathe. "Will you walk with me? Keep me company until he arrives?"

"You know I will," he replied. They touched down on the South Lawn. He unbuckled his seat belt and did the same for her. In no time the young marine had the door open. He helped her stand and winced at her sharp intake of breath. "Sure you're okay?" he asked, supporting her with his arm.

She nodded.

"All right," he conceded. "Let's get this done."

She smiled her thanks to him. Straightening up, she silently prayed some adrenaline would kick in soon. At the bottom of the stairs, she saluted the marine and set her sights on her office. But as she began to walk that way, applause and whistles from the right side of the rope line caught her attention. She glanced that way and was overwhelmed to discover that several people had brought her flowers. Buoyed up by their kindness, she glanced quickly at Rod, who was just behind her, and walked over to them.

Rod, too, heard the applause and saw the flowers. He knew instantly that she would not ignore their efforts. But he would not let her remain there long.

Mac started at the far side of the rope line. She shook hands with everyone and warmly accepted the flowers. When her arms were full, Rod was instantly at her side. As she handed him the flowers and looked up into his face, she smiled. In his dark suit, white shirt and conservative tie, he looked suspiciously like a member of her protective detail. All that was missing were the dark sunglasses and the earpiece. "Thanks," she told him.

"What am I going to do with you?" he protested softly against her ear.

She was so tempted to kiss him. Wouldn't that create a stir? But she would not take the lead in their relationship in public. Not yet, anyway. So instead she coyly raised an eyebrow in his direction then turned her attention back to the crowd. As she shook the last hand, she felt his supportive hand against the small of her back. She leaned into him. This simple gesture made under the prying eyes of the crowd and the White House press corps spoke volumes about his love for her and his commitment to her. She ignored the reporters' shouted questions from the left rope line as together they walked along the driveway and up the cement path to her office.

Once inside Rod convinced her to sit down. Jim came in and the three of them made small talk until word came that Nathan Templeton had arrived. Since Cooper was in Atlanta on an errand for Rod, and her secretaries were off, Jim went to meet him. "Are you ready?" Rod asked her.

She nodded and he helped her stand. "Do I look okay?" she asked, straightening her suit jacket.

He looked her over from head to toe. "You look beautiful—and very presidential."

"Thank you." She grabbed his hand and in an instant he closed the distance between them. She sighed as he tucked her hair behind her ear and kissed her gently on the cheek.

"Madam President," Nathan Templeton announced as he strolled into the Oval Office.

Rod unhurriedly stepped to her side as Mac turned towards her guest. "Nathan, thank you for coming," she said.

The older man stopped a few feet away and replied, "Anything for you, Madam President. You look great, but should you really be working?"

She ignored his insincere attempt at civility and his show of concern for her wellbeing. "I don't believe you've met Rod Calloway," she said.

"I haven't. Judge, how are things in the Eleventh Circuit?"

Instead of extending his hand out towards the older man, Rod placed his hand against the small of Mac's back and smiled. "Just fine, Mr. Templeton… or should I still address you as 'Mr. Speaker?' I mean, surely you've made a deal with the governor of Florida and your Republican colleagues in the House to be reappointed to your congressional seat and your leadership position first thing Tuesday morning?"

He was pleased to see his retort at least momentarily struck a nerve. Satisfied that he'd accomplished what he set out to do, he added, "Now if you will excuse me, I'll let the two of you get down to business." He turned to Mac and kissed her on the mouth. "I'll be across the hall," he told her softly. He needed to speak with Jim when she wasn't around and this would be the perfect opportunity.

"Thanks, honey," she said as he moved towards the side door. She walked over to her desk and fighting not to show any outward sign of the pain that wracked her internally, she gingerly sat down and gestured to a chair across the desk for him to join her.

He sat down and said, "Surely you're not going to try and deny your affair now?"

Paying no attention to the additional pain it would cause, she casually leaned back in her chair and smiled. "Is that how you describe your relationship with Sarah—as an affair?" She paused and relished how his trademark Machiavellian grin instantly disappeared. His one true soft spot was his wife. "I didn't think so," she added without waiting for a retort.

However, the sharp, ripping pain in her side brought her quickly back to the real purpose of this meeting. Leaning forward until her elbows rested on her desk, she said, "Let's skip the small talk, shall we?" She stared him down before continuing, "Just where in the hell do you get off thinking you can waltz in here—into my office—and dictate executive policy?"

XXXXXXXXXX

After Templeton left five minutes later, Mac again sunk down into her chair, burning up with anger yet completely drained. She could not let him win this election. His arrogance and shortsightedness would be a disaster for the country. But how could she stop him? She'd been working day and night and still she trailed him by ten points in the polls. And now, he would get a huge bump from his shenanigans of the past few days. Worst of all, there was nothing she could do about it. The pain in her side spiked again and she doubled over, her head resting on her desk. After several shallow breaths, the pain lessened and she tried to stand. But when she couldn't get her body to follow instructions, she just stayed put.

A few minutes later, she felt Rod's familiar, supportive touch on her shoulder. She straightened up and he helped her to stand. With a scowl and a firm voice he told her, "There's a wheelchair on the colonnade. You, Madam, are going straight to bed… and that is not open to discussion."

She was too exhausted and in too much pain to argue.

A short time later, she was sitting in bed eating dinner under his watchful eye. He looked rather menacing in his suit pants and white shirt as he stood against the wall, arms folded across his chest. He was angry with her, but was doing his best not to explode. He said nothing but just stared at her. "Looks like I'm not the only one with a 'hmph face,'" she told him when she could no longer take the silence. He dropped his arms to his side and sighed. Maintaining eye contact with her, his expression still intense, he walked over to the bed and sat down next to her.

"Honestly, Mackenzie, what am I going to do with you?" he asked again rhetorically.

"I'm fine," she insisted.

"Sure, you are," he replied, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. "You're running a fever over 102 degrees and you managed to pull out half your stitches." He pursed his lips and shook his head before he continued. "You push yourself beyond what's reasonable and safe. You worked most of yesterday and today—including straight through lunch on the plane; and you insisted on a showdown with the Speaker immediately after returning home. That is just stupid, Mac."

"You're right," she conceded. Dr. Brock had just examined her again. After he re-sutured her incision and insisted she take some pain medication, he, too, had given her a respectful yet stern lecture. She rubbed Rod's thigh, hoping she could make him relax. At the same time, just the thought of her earlier conversation with the Speaker got her worked up again. "He just makes me so mad. I can't let him win. But I have no idea how to stop him."

"Templeton?"

She nodded.

"Honey, you have no vice-president. If you end up back in the hospital because you were impossibly stubborn, you will lose valuable time and momentum and there _will_ be no stopping him."

"I know." She sighed deeply. "Not that it really matters. He's so far ahead and nothing I do seems to matter at all. I just don't get it."

It hated to see her so discouraged. He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear, letting his fingers stroke the side of her face. "We'll figure it out," he assured her. "First though we have to get you well… and that means no work the next few days and lots of rest."

She rubbed her cheek against the back of his hand. "I know you're right… and I am tired. But I have to speak at Arlington on Monday morning."

"We'll see," he answered noncommittally. "And I say that out of love, Madam," he added, effectively cutting off any protest.

"Honey, I had to work. Like you said, I need a new vice-president immediately; and Templeton made such a huge mess of things but you know he'll get a huge bump in the polls. I couldn't wait until next week to get ready to respond."

"Yeah, I know..."

She watched his face glaze over as his mind went to a place of deep thought. She smiled and rubbed his leg again. No reaction. What was it Cooper had said coming home from Jerusalem? That when he was in the thought zone the world could collapse and he wouldn't know it? She lightly traced a trail up his abdomen and chest with her fingers and felt his muscles contract. When he smiled at her, she asked, "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing. Finish your dinner."

"I am finished." She began to move the tray off her lap but he took it from her and set it on the floor. "I know that look," she said to him. "Tell me."

"Okay," he replied with a shrug. "Perhaps the best attack is no attack. Say nothing and it will soon be forgotten; and he'll look like a fool trying to sell himself to the country based on less than 24 hours as acting president. Why give him a reason to keep his day of jubilee alive?"

"Day of jubilee?" she repeated, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I like that… But how can I possibly avoid the subject? You heard the questions the press corps shouted at me on the lawn. They're not going to let it go."

"Don't take the bait."

"How?"

"Well, if I was in your shoes, in response to every question about him, I would stress how great our constitution is and how well our system of government works. How the 25th Amendment and presidential succession laws were meant for just such an occasion. Make it about you, honey. Talk about your gratitude for the thoughts, prayers and good wishes of the American people, and how committed you are to being the leader they need and deserve."

Mac thought about his suggestions and finally acknowledged, "That just might work. You really are good."

"Not at all," he said, deflecting her praise. "I just don't have as much on my mind. Or maybe you're just too close to the situation."

"It's hard not to be," she conceded with a sigh. "From the moment I took office, he's done everything in his power to undermine me."

"I know," he agreed sympathetically. He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, and with an intimate wink added, "That's why you have me around."

She took his hand and squeezed it. "I love how you handled him earlier. He was speechless. I think our relationship scares him."

"I know," he replied with a smirk.

She playfully raised her eyebrow and suggested, "Still a politician at heart. Maybe I should appoint you as Vice-President."

He laughed. "Forget it. What was it that one of FDR's vice-presidents said? That the job isn't 'worth a bucket of warm piss?'"

She grinned. "I think it was John Nance Gardner… and he was right."

"You would know." Rod brought her hand up to his lips and kissed the inside of her wrist. "How's the pain?"

"It's much better. And I don't need anything," she added before he could ask.

"Am I that transparent?" he questioned.

She shook her head. "You're just you."

Careful to keep his weight off her, he pressed a light, lingering kiss on her mouth. "Mmm… chicken soup, corn chips and chocolate pudding. Nothing better," he teased, licking his lips, before kissing her again. Afterwards, he nuzzled against her neck, loving the softness of her skin and her uniquely feminine scent.

She stroked his taut chest through the supple, expensive fabric of his shirt and whispered in his ear, "I missed you so much."

"Me, too." She sighed and rested her head against him. He held her and rubbed her back for a few minutes before asking, "The pain medication's kicked in, hasn't it?"

She sighed again.

"Let's get you ready for bed." He helped her into the bathroom for her nightly routine and then back into bed. Once again he sat down beside her. "Get some sleep. Jim is keeping a close eye on the world, so no worries there."

"I know," she said through a yawn.

"I'll stay for a while and will be back first thing in the morning. And if you need anything later, I can be here in a few minutes."

"Sure you don't want to just stay here?" she asked, looking up at him.

"I am staying here," he reminded her as he pulled the covers up under her chin.

"Across the street at Blair House."

He was so tempted to stay. He wanted nothing more than to climb into bed beside her. But after their arrival together this afternoon, and their behavior with Templeton, the press would be staked out, waiting for his departure—or lack thereof. "Mackenzie…"

She reached up and touched his arm. "I know it's the right thing. It's just…." Involuntarily she yawned again.

"I hate it, too." He bent his head and touched their foreheads together. "Sweet dreams, my love," he whispered to her before kissing her softly.

XXXXXXXXXX

**Sunday, May 29, 2016**

When Mac awoke she was alone. She looked at the clock and was surprised to see it was approaching six p.m. Had she really taken a four-hour nap? They had put on a movie and she'd promptly fallen asleep, curled up against Rod on her left side. She wasn't in pain, so gingerly she sat up on the edge of the bed. She heard the faint sounds of the television through the open door to the family room and knew that's where she would find him.

She walked into the bathroom, emptied her bladder, and checked herself in the mirror. She cringed at what she saw. She looked washed out. How bad must she have looked earlier? She brushed her teeth and ran a comb through her unruly hair before walking into the other room.

She smiled as she heard the sounds of baseball on the big screen. Surprisingly, she found him not sprawled out on the sofa but standing at the big window, seemingly lost in thought as he stared across the South Lawn. She slipped to his side and wrapped her left arm around his back. "Game not enough to hold your attention?"

"I was listening. But it's a gorgeous evening and I was enjoying the view." He turned to her and placed his hands lightly on her waist. "How do you feel?"

"Better. I can't remember a day like this… It's decadent." He insisted she remain in bed in her pajamas all day. They had shared breakfast and lunch on a tray, looked over her Memorial Day speech, and he gave her a foot massage that had her practically drooling. Mostly, however, she slept.

"It's a necessity," he corrected. He bent his head to brush his lips against her cheek.

"I don't have a fever," she whispered before turning her head and placing a kiss of her own on his cheek.

He laughed and took her hands as he examined her from head to toe. "You are feeling better," he said afterwards, unable to hide his sense of relief.

She smiled. "Thanks to you."

"Do you feel up to a walk before dinner?" he asked.

"You mean I get to put on some real clothes?" she teased.

He leaned towards her and with a wicked gleam in his eyes, softly replied, "I'd rather you wear nothing at all… But for now, clothes will have to do."

Smiling through her flushed face, she said, "I love you."

"It's a good thing… because you're stuck with me—White House, Secret Service, paparazzi and all."

Speculation over the nature of their relationship had been rampant on both the network and cable news shows today while footage of yesterday's helicopter arrival, and of him leaving the White House last night and being practically attacked by reporters and photographers, had been played over and over. They'd been so successful in the past at hiding their relationship from public view, she hadn't expected they would jump on him so quickly and so completely.

"How does it feel being America's newest celebrity?" she asked somewhat tentatively with a gentle tease, hoping she could get him to talk about it. He'd changed the subject on her whenever she'd mentioned it earlier in the day.

"I shall endeavor to endure, Madam," he replied, his tone dry and indulgent. He gestured with his heads towards her bedroom. "Go get dressed before I change my mind and send you back to bed."

She hurried into the bedroom where she put on a little makeup and changed into red and white patterned cropped pants, a white sleeveless blouse and red sandals. When she returned to the family room, Rod switched off the television and turned towards her. She felt much better about her appearance when she saw the desire in his eyes.

Hands buried deep in the pockets of his long navy seersucker shorts, he said, "Mackenzie, you are so beautiful."

"Thank you." She extended his hand to him. "Ready to go?"

XXXXXXXXXX

Hand in hand they took the elevator downstairs and walked through the Palm Room out to the walkway that runs along the eastern edge of the Rose Garden. Halfway down the path Mac noticed a golf cart parked on the circular driveway and chuckled. He'd barely let her move a muscle since her meeting with Templeton yesterday. She should have known he would have something besides walking up his sleeve.

Rod had been waiting for her reaction when she saw the cart. "You didn't honestly believe I was going to let you actually walk, did you?" he asked her.

"Apparently not," she replied with another chuckle. She dared not laugh because it would hurt too much.

He gestured to the passenger seat. "Your chariot, Madam."

"Thank you." She accepted his assistance in getting settled in the little cart. As he sat in the driver's seat, she said, "What did you do? Rob a local golf course?"

He smiled at her and admitted, "I think it came from Camp David."

She smiled back. "I'm sure the President won't mind."

"I thought about the wheel chair. But decided I wasn't too keen on the idea of pushing you back up the hill."

"I'm sure you could have enlisted a couple of the agents to assist you," she playfully replied.

"And look like a wimp? I don't think so. Besides, I'm not sure it's included in their job description."

"It better not be. I have no intention of ever needing one again." As they started down the hill past her office, she felt the wind on her face and sighed. "You were right. It's a beautiful evening. Warm with just a touch of a breeze."

"I thought a little fresh air would do us both some good. But is the ride too bumpy for you?" He slowed down and rested a hand on her leg. He couldn't stop touching her.

"It feels good," she assured him, taking his hand.

He nodded and sped up slightly as they continued down the driveway. "Are you hungry?" he asked as they reached the bottom near the basketball court, which he silently noted, still needed some major work.

"Mmm… You want to go back inside already?" she asked.

"No, I had something else in mind."

He stopped by the tennis court where Jeffrey, Jessica and other members of her protective detail were apparently staked out. "The Children's Garden?"

"If you feel up to it."

She smiled and he helped her out of the cart, took her by the hand and led her off the driveway along the familiar stone path leading to the little private garden, which was surrounded by trees and shrubs. "What have you done?" she asked him as they walked.

"You'll see."

Inside Mac discovered an intimate table for two had been set up next to the fishpond in the corner of the garden, complete with the Clinton china and a vase of roses. "It's lovely," she told him.

He helped her sit at the table. "Are you sure that you're okay with this? We can get you back to bed and eat off trays—it's no big deal—not if you honestly don't feel up to it."

"I'm stiff and sore, but this is perfect. Besides, I'm tired of being cooped up inside."

"Me, too," he agreed. "But promise me you'll tell me if it gets to be too much. It's only been three days since you had major surgery. You should be in the hospital."

"Who needs a hospital when I've got you scrutinizing my every move?" she protested.

"Mac…" he warned as he sat down across from her.

"I promise," she assured him. "So what's for dinner?"

He laughed. "Nothing too exotic, I'm afraid. Kyle got to Chef Paul before I did and dictated a very bland menu." No sooner had he finished than one of the Usher's came in carrying a large tray. Very quickly he realized that bland did not necessarily equate to tasteless. The chicken Romano with wild rice and fresh grilled vegetables was scrumptious. "Remind me never to question Chef Paul's culinary prowess again," he said lightly a few minutes later after devouring a third of the meal.

Mac looked at her own half-empty plate and smiled. "I'm continually amazed. Seriously, why go out when you've got this at home?" she said before taking another bite.

"And it is home," he said rhetorically.

"Yes, it is," she acknowledged. She put down her fork. "But without you it felt like just a big empty house."

"Atlanta felt the same."

"Misery loves company," she told him. "This is lovely. Thank you for thinking of it. I never would have imagined this spot, but it's just right."

"I thought about the Blue or Yellow Rooms, or the Truman Balcony for the view. But in the end I liked this better because… well, because…"

She finished his thought. "Because here we're just me and you."

Looking into her face, he nodded. "It seemed right. After all, this is where we first talked about second chances."

She sighed. "So much has happened since then."

"You were so brave that day. I gave you such a hard time."

"I was desperate. I knew in an instant that I was still madly in love with you. I couldn't let you walk away again."

He took her hand. "You remembered my favorite poem—one of many surprises from you that day. It stopped me in my tracks."

"Were you really surprised?"

He nodded. "Stunned. I wasn't prepared for the way you made me feel, and wanted nothing to do with it. But then you spoke those words and it changed my mind about leaving. I couldn't believe that you remembered."

"I remember everything about you and our time together." She sighed again. "Mostly though, I remember my stupidity in believing that you, like David, would ultimately find me deficient."

"Mackenzie, I would never… You were everything to me."

His voice grew fierce. Honor and loyalty were everything to him she again realized. She took his hand. "I know that now. At the time I was blinded by fear. My foolishness cost us a lifetime together. That's why I couldn't let you walk away again—not without telling you how I feel."

"The difference in you was startling," he told her with a wistful smile. At the same time he couldn't help but wonder again how someone she hadn't seen in over twenty years could still figure so prominently in her thoughts at times. He took another bite of chicken before asking, "How can he still have such a hold on you?"

"David?" She stiffened and scowled. Pulling her hand away, she sharply insisted, "He doesn't. I just wish I understood why he changed his mind and what I had done wrong."

Quietly he said, "Did it never occur to you that it was nothing you did or said? That it wasn't you?"

She shook her head. "No, it had to be me. But it doesn't matter. I got over it a long time ago." She, too, began to finish her meal.

Rod watched her take out her frustration on her food, and wanted to kick himself for delving into such a sensitive topic, especially tonight. As they ate in stony silence, he thought back to that early March afternoon when he'd first learned David's name and all that took place between them. Thought back to her startling openness, and to his own almost boorish behavior. He could have handled that weekend so much better than he had. He put down his fork and touched her shoulder. He heard her sigh and waited for her to look at him. When she did, he said, "You're right. David doesn't matter and neither does the past. But I am sorry that I hurt you the weekend me met again, and that it took me so long to catch up."

"It was my own fault. There was no reason for you to trust or believe what I had to say, or even care about me at all. Not after everything I put you through."

"You've been so patient—so accepting, with me and my kids. Far more so than I had any right to ask."

"What choice did I have? I want and need you in my life. I knew that the moment I saw you again, standing in my office, looking at the Hassam painting, hands buried in your pockets. And if that meant a lifetime of only friendship how could I possibly complain? I'm the one responsible for it."

"And then I hurt you again. Offered you everything I have and then pulled the rug out from under you."

"Honey, I know why you did it and I love you for it. But I won't lie. I was miserable every minute without you. I never would have moved on—never could have loved anyone else."

He nodded. "Me, too."

"Are you sure Becca's really okay with us? That she hasn't changed her mind? I know we probably should have discussed this before now. I wasn't thinking clearly. I was just so happy to have us again."

"Well, I don't think she's thrilled. But she's resigned to it and is not complaining—not much anyway," he added with a gentle smile. "Don't worry. She'll come around."

"I hope so," she said while lines of worry etched across her brow. "I could never take the place of Lauren, and I would never try. I know she resents me—and I understand why she feels that way. But more than anything, I want us all to be a family. Is it wrong to want that? Have I overstepped my place?"

Tenderly he stroked her cheek. "No, it's not wrong, and no, you haven't overstepped anything. It's what I want. Thank you for wanting it, too."

"I just hope that eventually I can convince her how important she is to me—that I love her, too."

"I wish that I could tell you it will be easy from now on. But I'm sure there will be days when we'll want to kill her. So I'll just apologize now in advance."

She smiled back at him. "Honey, I understand. I'll be patient for as long as it takes."

"Thank you. I wish that I understood better. With her brother it's always been so easy, with her…."

"She's a girl. What did you honestly expect? This is a much harder adjustment for her than Cooper. She's used to having both of you to herself—used to being the only woman in your lives, and I've changed that equation. Subconsciously, she probably feels displaced."

"I hadn't considered that," he said. "How can I make her see that nothing has changed?"

"You already have. You sacrificed your happiness for hers—just like you've done her entire life. You're a wonderful father. I always knew you would be."

"Thank you."

"I forgot to ask how she's playing in Colorado?"

"Really well. I think she'll make the team. That reminds me, I have a letter for you from Becca in my briefcase."

She acted surprised. "Really?"

"It's on White House stationary, Mac. You want to fill me in on the joke?"

"What did she say?"

"Nothing. Just to give it to you."

"She didn't mention that we talked?"

"Now that I think about it, she said that she saw you and Cooper when you were in town. I wasn't paying much attention at the time because I didn't want to rehash our earlier conversation in Greenwich. Afterwards, I was too worried about you to give it any thought. When did Raleigh-Durham get put on your schedule? I don't remember seeing it there, and Cooper hasn't said a word about it."

"It was a last minute thing," she told him. "Bill Clinton was supposed to deliver the commencement address at the University of North Carolina but got laryngitis, so I filled in."

"He didn't look first to his wife?"

"I believe she had it, too," she replied, unable to swallow the smile that tugged at her lips.

He laughed. "Mackenzie, what did you do?"

"I wanted to talk to Becca before she left for Colorado and Bill was nice enough to help me out. This time Mohammad went to the mountain."

He shook his head in disbelief, a closed mouth smile on his face. "Why do I get the feeling that was only the first step in the conspiracy?"

"Well, I did add a visit to the troops at Fort Bragg. It is my prerogative, you know."

He laughed. "Just out of curiosity, what did you do with the old schedule?"

"Rescheduled. Just another presidential perk," she said dryly.

He shook his head again. "And Junior's role in all this? Because there's no way my daughter would have willingly cooperated."

"He and Jamison got her to the hotel."

"I bet she loved that," he told her.

"She wasn't too happy at first," Mac admitted. "But we ended up having a good talk. Although when I left her, I honestly didn't think anything would happen because of it. By the time I left for Seattle on Wednesday, I was resigned to the fact that nothing had changed, or was likely to ever change."

"Well, whatever you said obviously worked. What was in the letter?" He was curious about a lot more than that, but it didn't seem right to press her for the details of the conversation; and knowing how his daughter could react when put on the defensive, perhaps it was best he remained in the dark.

She shrugged. "It's not important."

"Mackenzie…"

"It was my resignation."

"Mac, be serious."

"I am serious. It's a signed letter addressed to the Secretary of State resigning as President of the United States."

"And you gave it to my daughter…"

She nodded. "I want to be with you more than I want to be president. So I gave Becca the letter and told her the choice was hers."

"You are amazing, you know that?"

"Just keep reminding me."

"Every day. You do know I would never have allowed you to do that," he said.

"I wouldn't have opened the matter up for discussion. If Rebecca asked me to resign, I would have. Then I would have shown up on your doorstep, begging for you to take me in—me and my entourage."

"I love you."

"Me, too. Although I must admit, I am relieved I don't have to put that promise to the test. Though the election is in less than six months and I'm sure to lose, I really like my job."

"You're not going to lose… I guarantee it."

"I hope you're right."

He grinned. "I'm always right."

"And always prepared. Dinner was delicious," she said. The light was beginning to fade as night rapidly approached. "But where's my dessert?"

He laughed. "Inside… if you feel up to it. How's the pain? Are you tired?"

"Are you kidding, after my four hour nap? Although I could use a couple of pain killers," she conceded.

He removed a small bottle from his pocket, opened it and handed it to her.

"You are such a boy scout," she teased, removing a couple of tablets and then swallowing them with a drink of water. "But thanks."

He winked at her. "Any time. We need to get you back in bed. But first, I have a question to ask you."

She watched in amazement as he stood, reached his hand into the front pocket of his shorts, and then dropped down on one knee next to her. Taking her left hand, he gazed up at her and said, "I've rehearsed this in my mind over and over again, and spent half of last night looking for the perfect piece of prose or poetry. But it always comes back to this: Mackenzie Spencer Allen, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

She gasped at his words and gaped at the ring he held out to her, a wide antique gold band with a brilliant solitaire diamond that had to be at least two karats. She felt tears sting her eyes and her voice was barely more than a whisper as she told him, "Yes… oh, yes." Gently he took her hand and slid the ring on her finger. It fit perfectly. He kissed her hand and she tingled with excitement and desire.

"Do you like it?" he asked eagerly from where he still knelt before her.

"I love it… and I love you," she assured him, caressing the side of his face. She wanted to throw herself at him. But he and Dr. Brock would have a fit if she even tried. Truthfully, she wasn't terribly excited about the prospect of more pain and possibly ripping out her stitches again. Rod must have read her thoughts because he pulled his chair next to hers and tenderly eased her onto his lap. He held her like a she was a priceless, breakable heirloom. She was still in some pain but the discomfort was nothing in comparison to the peace and pleasure she felt being in his arms.

"Is this okay?" he asked.

"Perfect. Now kiss me." She watched as the laughter in his eyes was quickly replaced by desire. She was surprised, however, when his lips only lightly brushed hers then settled gently over her mouth. He could be so sweet and solicitous. But she wanted more. Hungrily she tried to deepen the kiss. He briefly responded but then anxiously pulled away with a groan. "I won't break," she playfully told him.

"I don't want to hurt you," he replied without a trace of humor in his voice.

She touched his face and looked deeply into the eyes she adored. "You would never hurt me."

He took her hand and kissed each finger. "I came too close to losing you, and it would be too easy to lose control. So for now that's all you get. But I promise, I'll make it up to you as soon as you're stronger."

She nodded. How could she complain about being so protected and so loved? "I'm going to hold you to that, Your Honor. And in case I forgot to mention it, I love you and would be honored to be your wife. I also adore my ring," she added, again gazing at her left hand. "But how? When?"

"It's the real reason I sent Cooper to Atlanta."

She was shocked. "You already had it?"

He nodded. "My grandmother gave it to me more than twenty years ago. It was the ring my grandfather gave her on their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. But if you don't like it, or would prefer something else, I'll replace it."

"It's beautiful," she assured him. She wasn't surprised that Rebecca had given him the ring. He was named after his grandfather and had always been her boy. But why did he still have it? "Why didn't you give it to Lauren?"

"Because it was meant for you."

"Me?" she repeated. "How could it have been meant for me?"

"Nana gave it to me the first weekend after we met. I told her that I had met the woman I wanted to marry. She slid the ring off her finger and told me to give it to you when I proposed. I could never have given it to anyone else. I tried to give it back to her after we broke up, but she refused. I had planned to save it for Becca someday…" His voice trailed off as a wide smile appeared on his face. "And then you came back into my life."

"You really knew that soon?"

"Yes," he said unequivocally.

She shook her head in self-derision. "I was such a fool."

"Honey, don't," he pleaded as he rubbed her back. "We're together again… and we _are_ getting married—that I promise you. But if the ring is too much a reminder of the past, let's get you something else."

"No… I love it. You couldn't have given me anything more meaningful."

"I'm glad. Nana will be thrilled." He kissed her again briefly. "Now, let's get you back upstairs and in bed… and then you can have dessert."

XXXXXXXXXX

**Monday, May 30, 2016**

**Arlington, Virginia**

Rod watched proudly from a distance as Mackenzie lay the traditional Memorial Day wreath at the Tomb of the Unknowns. She looked so much better than she did a few days ago. He couldn't take his eyes off her. Watching her shoulder length auburn hair blow gently in the breeze, he thought again how lucky he was to have been given a second chance at love with her. Her ring sparkled in the sunlight and with a chuckle he wondered how many members of the press corps had noticed it. Between the Templeton issue and their engagement, tomorrow's press briefing was bound to be interesting.

After the ceremony at the Tomb, the party moved into the adjacent white marble Memorial Amphitheatre. He strolled around to the backside as the Marine Band played Hail to the Chief and Mac was introduced to the crowd. It was a powerful scene. He stood proudly as she spoke to the gathered veterans and their families. She had always been a compelling speaker with a way of exuding confidence. Even after the ordeal of the past week, today was no different. When she was done, he wandered back over to where the motorcade was parked. They had decided together that this morning's event would not be the right occasion for their first joint public appearance. Today was too sacred, and too solemn. They did not want to distract from the true significance of this morning's ceremonies.

Soon Mackenzie joined him and they made the short drive down to her father's grave while the crowd was held in place up the hill. He helped her out of the car and together they placed a smaller wreath at the base of his tombstone.

She took his hand and said, "Thank you for sending Cooper and Carl to me on the anniversary of his death."

He looked down into her face and said, "I wanted to be the one here for you."

"You're here for me now, and that's all that counts."

He nodded.

Again she looked down at her father's grave. She still missed him every day. "He would be thrilled about our marriage. It's what he always wanted, I think." Wistfully she continued, "Even though I'm middle-aged and the President of the United States, he would have insisted you ask him permission for my hand. He would have loved that moment. I wish he could have had it."

He squeezed her hand. "Honey, he did have it. I asked him for permission to marry you the night of his birthday party that last weekend when he took me into his study."

She turned her full attention to him. She saw in his eyes that what he said was true. She was so stunned and overwhelmed that all she could say was, "I never knew…"

"I asked him not to say anything except to your mother, of course. I knew you weren't ready, but I wanted him to know exactly how I saw you and our relationship. He told me you were destined for greatness and asked that I not keep you from it. I promised him that I would always support you in whatever path you chose."

She was again shocked. But quickly it turned to regret as she remembered what happened the next evening, and the following day when it all had fallen apart. "If only I had known," she said aloud, wondering about how their lives might have been different.

"I know," he agreed. "Perhaps I was wrong in not asking you to marry me that night after we got back to New Haven. I just didn't think you were ready. I'm sorry." He tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ear.

She closed the short distance between them and put her arms around him. Looking up at him, she said, "I wasn't ready. We both know that… But thank you for loving me, then and especially now. You know, my father talked about you the last time we spoke before his death. He was worried about me. Worried about how isolated even the vice-presidency had left me. Well, truth be told, he always worried about my personal life."

He smiled and nodded down at her. "I know how that is—only I have sisters and a grandmother, too."

"Yeah, you do," she agreed. "Anyway, he told me that life was much richer shared, and that I needed a partner in my life. Someone like you." She shook her head with more regret. "I was so angry at him for bringing you into the conversation. I thought he was out of his mind. I was happy and my life was just fine the way it was. Why would he want me to have anything to do with you after you walked away?" She sighed. "Of course, I didn't know what he knew. I couldn't see what he saw. You didn't walk away. I did. And the only life I had, was a half-life."

"We both did," he reminded her. "But never again. One thing I do know is that Michael Allen was a wise man—a man who loved his wife and his daughter. I'm honored that he considered me worthy of you. I will do everything in my power to be that man—that partner—for you."

"Thank you," she said.

He bent his head until their foreheads touched. For a long moment, they held each other, communicating their love and commitment through their touch. Finally, he kissed her and said, "Let's go home. You've had enough for today."


	39. The Light of Day

**39. The Light of Day**

**Tuesday, May 31, 2016**

**Washington, D.C.**

Mac finished her daily brief and sighed in relief as her intelligence director and Anthony Prado, her national security advisor, left her upstairs study. The one constant of the presidency was this daily global intelligence rundown. She turned to her chief of staff, "Keep applying pressure on Israel to exercise restraint in the West Bank. I understand their need to respond to the PLO bombings but I don't want the region destabilized any more than it already is. Remind Tony that I want him on this all day."

"Yes, ma'am," Jim replied.

"I also want you personally to follow up with the both the union and management representatives. We've got to know if the tentative agreement we reached yesterday for a permanent settlement is going to hold. If you sense any backtracking I want to know about it immediately. There cannot be any possibility of disruption of airline service… I will not allow Templeton to get any more mileage out of his shortsighted, ill-advised and inappropriate interference. Let's have Kelly announce our deal at today's briefing. We moved that to this afternoon?"

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Mac shifted her position on the sofa and winced, completely unaware that all color had drained from her face.

"Are you okay? Should I call Dr. Brock?"

Breathing deep, hand against her side, she shook her head. "It's nothing," she insisted. "Just sore. I'll get through it. We've got work that can't wait, starting with choosing a new vice-president. That has to get done this week."

"We have some time—unless you plan on having surgery again any time soon," he said lightly, hoping he could curb her innate impatience and ambition at least long enough for her to recover from last week's ordeal.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Or get shot at," she added with a droll tone. "Jim, the longer we wait the more difficult it will be to get anyone pushed through Congress. Right now we have the public's heightened sense of the need for orderly succession in our favor. But if we wait election year politics will consume everything and everyone. You know that—better than I do. So I want that short list finalized by tomorrow and I want people in for interviews the end of the week."

Jim sighed. "Madam President, Dr. Brock has said that…"

"I know," she interrupted. "I've been placed under house arrest. But let's not kid ourselves. Kyle's the Straw man. We both know who really gave that order. I'm betting he had a conversation with you, too."

"He loves you," Jim pointed out, not even attempting to deny the allegation.

She couldn't argue with that simple yet mind-blowing truth. Once again she checked her left hand to see if his grandmother's ring was truly there. She smiled at the way it sparkled. "He does," she agreed with a contented sigh. "That's why I'm up here and not down in the office," she added as an impish smile that was not in the least bit presidential brightened her face.

He, too, smiled. "Still… We do have a little time, ma'am."

Momentarily she weighed his advice before pressing forward. "You and the staff will be doing the hard stuff. I'll simply be conducting a few interviews this weekend at Camp David. It's the best place to get people in and out secretly. Kyle's order that I rest provides the perfect cover. Besides how can my fiancé object to a quiet weekend in the mountains?" She chuckled aloud at the sound of Rod's new title. It was still so strange and new.

"Have you and Rod decided how you want news of your engagement handled? As you can imagine, Kelly is getting barraged by questions."

She nodded. "I think so. We talked about it yesterday. But I want to run it by him again. What time is she briefing?"

"Two," he replied. "But there's no rush. The sharks aren't going anywhere."

Mac groaned. "I hate what this will do to him—and the kids. And I want to make one thing absolutely clear: The twins are totally off-limits—particularly Rebecca. Unless the press wants a really pissed off President…."

He chuckled. "I'll spread the word. But there are still the paparazzi, the public, the campaign staff… and the terrorists."

The last bit hit Mac hard. Just the sound of that word sent a chill throughout her body. With no trace of humor she said, "With all that's happened the past few days, that's not something we've talked about. But they are now huge targets, even before the wedding."

"Especially before the wedding," he confirmed.

"What worries you most?"

"Kidnapping."

She slowly exhaled. "It's really that simple, isn't it?"

He nodded.

She realized just how little she understood about the particulars of the security that enveloped her, and the forces that daily threatened her and everyone she loved; or maybe, she'd deliberately chosen to remain ignorant. Jim, on the other hand, undoubtedly fully comprehended all of it. She would be a fool not to seek his counsel. "What do you suggest?" she asked.

"The U.S. Marshals are in charge of federal court security. They should be able to provide protection for Rod, perhaps even for the twins."

"And if they can't? Private security?" she surmised.

"Seems like the best option—the only option until you are married. We can get the Secret Service to consult. I assume money is not an issue."

"It's not," she agreed. Her mind began to wander to all kinds of new scenarios made possible by her engagement, all of them terrifying. "Life can be so different in the harsh light of day," she thought aloud.

"Ma'am?"

"How can I possibly ask this of them?" she clarified. "It would be a hundred times better for all of them that I don't run for reelection."

"You do it because the nation needs you, Mac," he replied matter of fact.

His use of her name got her attention. He hadn't called her that since she'd taken the presidential oath of office. She studied him and saw in his eyes that he sincerely believed what he'd told her. His loyalty, given their history, meant a great deal to her. "Thanks… And I need you."

He nodded. "Would you like me to set something up with Rod and PPD to discuss it?"

"Let me talk to him first. This has to be his decision." She had no right to speak for him—not about this.

"Knock, knock," the man in question said from the doorway.

Regardless of the seriousness of the ongoing discussion, Mac's heart flipped at the sight of him and she smiled. "We were just talking about you."

Rod stepped into the room and with a wink replied, "What a coincidence because I was just thinking about you. Morning, Jim."

The two men shook hands and Rod joined Mackenzie on the sofa. "Daily brief okay?" he asked, putting his arm loosely around her shoulders.

"Fortunately, other than the West Bank, which seems to be cooling off, the world's pretty quiet at the moment."

"Good," he said, staring into her face. The last thing she needed was a national security crisis. Her color was improved but still he was worried about her—particularly when he wouldn't be around to keep an eye on her.

"Ma'am, do you need anything else?" Jim interrupted.

Mac turned her attention to her Chief of Staff and shook her head. "Thanks, Jim. You'll keep me posted on what we talked about?"

"Of course, ma'am."

After he left the room, Mackenzie turned back to her man. "Hey…" she said, all traces of President Allen temporarily gone.

"Hey, yourself," he replied with an equally wide grin.

She scooted even closer to him and fingered his pastel colored zigzag and striped tie, which was the perfect compliment to his crisp light blue shirt. "Have I ever told you that I melt every time I see you in blue? That it's been that way from the beginning?"

"Only blue?" he teased, as his head bent towards her.

"No, but it's my favorite," she said, his nearness driving away any smart comment she might have used in retort. She welcomed his kiss and eagerly responded. But as she ran her hands up along his back, it occurred to her just what his formal attire meant. "When do you have to leave?" she asked softly as they parted.

"This morning," he confirmed.

"What happened?"

"Emergency hearing on Friday."

"En banc?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Just a normal panel, but I'm on it. It's likely to turn into a matter for the entire court though, and it's not something I can prepare for from here. The issues are too complex. Cam, Mary and I will be burning the late night oil all week."

Saturday was his birthday, but she wondered if he'd even thought that far ahead. She doubted it. Not with all that had taken place the past five days. No matter. She and Cooper would take care of that; and with any luck, Becca would be able—and willing—to join them. "And the weekend?" she asked hopefully.

He brushed the hair back from her face, and cupping her neck, leaned in for another kiss. "I'm all yours," he told her.

She smiled but then turned serious. "Do you have a few minutes before you go?"

"I'll make time," he replied. Her lovely eyes were full of fear. He took her hand. "What is it, Mackenzie? Are you in pain?"

She shook her head. "Jim and I were talking about you and the kids. I know this is awful to contemplate and I hate the fact that we even need to have this conversation. But our relationship—my job, I mean—makes them—makes all of you—targets… for terrorists, who want to get at me through them."

He nodded. "I know."

"I'm sorry." She inhaled deeply because what she had to tell him could break her heart again. "I want you to know that I would completely understand if upon further reflection you decided that this—that we—aren't worth the risk. If you feel you need to break off-"

He silenced her by placing a finger over her lips. "Honey, I'm not going anywhere. This isn't breaking news. I'm well aware of what our relationship means for all of us. I just happen to believe that you are worth it. That you are just what my family needs."

Mac closed her eyes and exhaled, feeling more grateful and relieved than she had a right to feel. The sense of wellbeing that washed over her as she felt his forehead press against her own overwhelmed her. "I love you," she whispered.

He pulled back and gazed into her face. "I love you."

"You're absolutely sure about this?"

"Yes," he assured her.

"Jim thinks—and I agree—that we should get security for the twins, at least until the Service can take over when we get married, or until after I lose the election."

"It's already taken care of," he informed her.

"It is?"

He nodded again. "Becca's got a full detail that will protect her around the clock, and Cooper's got a team that will take over when he's not with you. I would never put them at risk."

"And for you?" she asked.

"I've spoken with the Marshals office. I'll have round-the-clock protection, too." He caressed the side of her face with the back of his hand. "Mackenzie, I don't want you to worry. It's just a precaution. Nothing's going to happen, okay? I've got it handled."

She immediately felt better. "I should have known," she said with a chuckle. He was always prepared. "How—when—did you do all this?"

"While you were sleeping," he teased.

"Sorry about yesterday," she said with an embarrassed flush. "I didn't think the airline meeting and Arlington trip would take so much out of me." She'd fallen asleep in his arms after lunch while they watched a movie and had slept soundly through the night, waking up early this morning, still dressed in her sweats.

"You needed it… And it gave me some time to spend with Cooper, and to talk with Becca."

"How did the kids take it?"

"About the security?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said with a nod.

"As you'd expect," he said and then smiled. "Cooper took it in stride and Becca thinks her life is over. She hates being the center of attention."

"She must hate me."

He put his hand on her leg. "Honey, she doesn't hate you. Truthfully, I don't think she knows what to think—or feel. This is as new for her as it is for me. But she'll figure it out."

"I hope so," she replied with a small smile. "I want her to like me, Rod. I want us to be a real family. I want that more than anything."

He squeezed her hand. "Me, too."

"I think we should hold off on any interviews about our engagement."

He thoughtfully cocked her head. "Why?"

She shrugged. "I just think it would be best. You know, give us all a chance to get used to things without adding to the spectacle of it all. I'll have Kelly confirm our engagement, and I'll answer basic questions. But that's it for now."

"Is this what you really want, or are you just trying to do what you think I want… or Becca wants?"

"It's what's best. And that's what I want—what's best."

He nodded his acquiescence. "Okay."

She reached out and ran her fingers through his still thick dark hair. "You have to go, don't you?"

"Yeah," he acknowledged, looking at his watch. "I'm afraid time is going to be tight this week."

"I understand. How does a weekend at Camp David sound?"

"Sounds perfect. You will take it easy this week?" he questioned.

"I don't think I'll have a choice," she teased. "You've shanghaied my chief of staff, my personal aide, my doctor and my protective detail. So much for being the world's most powerful person."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he denied with a mischievous grin.

"Kiss me?"

"With pleasure." He cupped her face in his hands and felt her smile as his lips settled over her own in a gentle, evocative possession that warmed both body and soul. "I love you, Madam President," he told her afterwards.

"Hurry back, Your Honor."


End file.
